Ukrainian Children Find Healing Haven in St. Gallen

Laughter echoes across the St. Gallen hills, a stark and defiant contrast to the air raid sirens these children left behind. For two weeks, a youth hostel above the city transformed into a sanctuary for 35 Ukrainian children and youths, offering a critical respite from the relentless brutality of war. This is not merely a holiday; it is a humanitarian intervention of the highest order. Organized by the Swiss Red Cross (SRC) in collaboration with the Ukrainian ambassador and the Canton of St. Gallen, this initiative addresses a desperate need for normalcy in a generation defined by conflict.

The atmosphere in St. Gallen shifted palpably upon their arrival. While the scenic views of Eastern Switzerland usually inspire calm, for these children—aged 5 to 15—the silence was initially deafening. They arrived exhausted, introverted, and anxious, carrying the invisible burdens of a conflict that has ravaged their homeland. However, within days, the transformative power of safety became undeniable. The screams of terror often heard in Ukraine were replaced by the shouts of children letting off steam, proving that even in the shadow of war, the human spirit's capacity for joy remains unbreakable.

The demographics of this group reveal a heartbreaking reality: these are the children of Ukraine's first responders. A significant number of the participants have parents who served in the Ukrainian national police—fathers who have been killed, severely injured, or abducted in the line of duty. Lea Krähenmann, project manager for the SRC in St. Gallen, delivers a sobering assessment: "You could say that the children were traumatised several times over."

This is not just about displacement; it is about profound personal loss compounded by national tragedy. The 12 mothers and three other adults accompanying the children bear witness to this multi-layered trauma. The long bus journey to Switzerland was a physical manifestation of their arduous emotional path. Upon arrival, the signs of chronic stress were ubiquitous—withdrawal, silence, and hyper-vigilance. The program in St. Gallen was forced to confront these deep-seated scars immediately, recognizing that before any child can play, they must first feel safe enough to lower their guard.

Recovery requires more than just fresh air; it demands a carefully orchestrated strategy. The two-week itinerary was a masterclass in therapeutic engagement, blending Swiss cultural experiences with structured stability. From navigating the waters of the Old Rhine on a boat trip to scaling the heights of the Hoher Kasten, the children were immersed in the grounding power of nature.

However, the program's sensitivity to trauma was most evident during Switzerland's National Day. In a move demonstrating acute psychological awareness, the organizers transported the group to neighboring countries over the August 1st holiday. While the rest of Switzerland erupted in celebratory fireworks, these children were shielded from the explosions that mimic the sounds of artillery. Furthermore, interactions with dog handlers from the St. Gallen city and cantonal police provided a positive reframing of uniformed authority, helping to normalize interactions with law enforcement in a peaceful context. This was not random recreation; it was a calculated effort to rebuild a sense of safety.

Behind the façade of a summer camp lies a rigorous clinical framework. Christian Rupp, Managing Director of the SRC Canton St. Gallen, emphasizes that while they cannot "heal" the war in two weeks, they can achieve critical stabilization. To this end, three Ukrainian-trained psychologists were on-site daily, providing continuous psychosocial counseling. This native-language support was vital for processing the harrowing experiences the children carried with them.

The results were swift and tangible. One mother reported a dramatic shift in her children's physiology: after just two or three nights, they began to sleep through the night—a luxury lost in Ukraine. Initially, the sound of rescue helicopters landing at a nearby hospital triggered panic, waking the children with memories of war. But through the consistent safety of the Swiss environment and professional support, these triggers lost their immediate power. The restoration of basic needs—sleeping without fear, eating well, and playing in a forest without the threat of mines—proved to be the most powerful medicine of all.

The success of the St. Gallen initiative is not an isolated anomaly but a validation of a proven model. A pilot project in Schaffhausen the previous year demonstrated that even short-term removal from a war zone allows children to draw on their reserves of resilience long after they return home. The ability to calm down, even for a few days, resets the nervous system in a way that has lasting effects.

As the 35 children and their guardians returned to Ukraine on Monday, they carried back more than just souvenirs; they took with them a renewed sense of stability. Christian Rupp notes that fulfilling basic needs creates a foundation for endurance. Switzerland has once again demonstrated its pivotal role as a humanitarian hub, leveraging its resources not just for diplomacy, but for the direct alleviation of human suffering. This program stands as a testament to the fact that while we cannot stop the war overnight, we can—and must—provide the sanctuaries that allow the next generation to survive it.