The attack on Helen Haines & the Impact of Lateral Violence & Vicarious Trauma.

When Violence Reaches Beyond the Victim. Understanding Our Collective Response.

The attack on Australian independent MP Helen Haines has sent shockwaves through the community.

If you have been deeply impacted by what happened to Helen Haines, it is most likely a combination of the lateral violence effect and vicarious trauma that has affected your nervous system.

Even though we may never meet Helen, our hearts and mind are impacted in our solidarity:

Across social media, thousands of Australians, particularly women, have expressed outrage, compassion, solidarity, anger, fear and a profound sense of powerlessness.
Many people who have never met Helen are deeply affected by what has happened.

Some are reporting disturbed sleep, persistent worry and a constant need to check for updates.
Why are we so affected by violence against someone we do not know?
And what happens when an act of violence reaches far beyond the person directly harmed?

Three concepts can help us understand these responses:
Lateral Violence
Vicarious Trauma and
“Collective Effervescence”.

Lateral violence: when the impact of violence reaches others:

Violence does not end at the point where an attack takes place.
Its impact can travel far beyond the person directly targeted, reaching people who witness it, hear about it or identify with the person harmed. It can have a profound effect on the next generation and upon the lives who are not even born yet.

These are real emotional and psychological responses to a heinous act of violence.
Although people who are experiencing impact were not physically present, the event has affected:
a sense of safety
emotional wellbeing and
confidence in the world around them.

In the domestic violence sector, we understand that violence can have consequences well beyond the immediate victim.
We see how its effects reach children, families, friends and communities, sometimes long after the original incident.
A child exposed to violence at home, for example, may carry the fear, distress or learned behaviours into other relationships and the schoolyard.

In a different way, people witnessing the aftermath of violence against someone they identify with may experience fear, anger and distress as though the threat has moved closer to their own lives.

Lateral violence can be understood within the wider context of how violence against one person can affect others who share their identity, experiences or position in society.
When a prominent woman is subjected to violence, the impact can extend beyond her as an individual.
Other women, particularly those who occupy or aspire to occupy positions of public leadership, may experience the attack as a threat to their own safety, visibility and right to participate without fear.

The attack on Helen Haines has prompted women across Australia to express outrage, anger, fear, uncertainty and powerlessness.
For some, it has raised deeply personal questions about what it means to be a woman in public life and whether visibility, leadership and speaking out come at a cost.

In this sense, the violence has a lateral impact.
Its effects move across the community, reaching women who were not directly involved but who recognise the broader implications of what has happened.

The psychological and emotional consequences may include disturbed sleep, persistent worry, heightened vigilance and a renewed fear of violence.

Understanding this wider impact is important.
Violence against one woman can reverberate through the lives of many others, reinforcing a sense of vulnerability and reminding women of the risks they face when they step into public spaces or positions of authority. The person directly attacked is not the only person affected. When violence against one woman generates fear among many others, its impact has reached beyond the individual and into the collective experience of women.

Vicarious trauma: when someone else’s experience affects us:

Vicarious trauma describes the psychological impact that exposure to another person’s traumatic experiences can have on us.
It is well recognised among domestic violence workers, counsellors, emergency responders and others who regularly encounter trauma.

However, distress following exposure to violence can also affect members of the wider community.
We don’t need to know Helen personally to feel deeply affected by what has happened to her.

Some people may experience disturbed sleep, intrusive thoughts, anxiety, anger, sadness, difficulty concentrating, a heightened sense of danger or a persistent need to check for updates.

Others may feel helpless, particularly because they can’t do anything to change the situation.

For women who have experienced violence themselves, an attack of this nature may also trigger memories, fears and concerns about their own safety.
Recognising that exposure to violence, including through repeated news coverage and social media, can affect our sense of safety even when we are physically removed from the event put’s us on alert to self-care and processing the trauma we are experiencing.

The impact of violence cannot be measured simply by counting the people directly harmed.

Its effects can extend to families, friends, colleagues, witnesses and entire communities.
Violence can disrupt our sense of safety, violate our belief in fairness and leave us worrying about what might happen next.

Collective effervescence: the power of our shared humanity.
There is another concept that is irrelevant to the conversation about collective impact: “collective effervescence”. Sociologist Émile Durkheim used this term to describe the powerful sense of connection, shared emotion and collective energy that can arise when people come together around a common experience.

Think about the moment an ambulance approaches with its siren sounding.
Drivers move aside, strangers make room, and for a moment everyone is working towards the same purpose.
There is a shared understanding that someone needs help.

We may never exchange a word, yet we participate in a small, beautiful expression of our common humanity.

We see something similar when Australians unite in compassion, send messages of support, contribute financially or stand alongside people who are hurting after bushfires.

Collective effervescence is not limited to joy or celebration.
Shared grief, outrage and concern can also bring people together.

When violence disrupts our sense of safety and fairness, our emotions can reverberate through the community.
We see the distress of others, recognise our own feelings reflected in theirs and discover that we are not alone.

This shared response can be powerful.
While violence can leave people feeling isolated, frightened and powerless, collective connection can help restore a sense of belonging and shared purpose.

Our collective emotions and spirit can be deeply affected by violence and trauma, but that same capacity to feel together can also become a source of resilience, compassion and positive action.

Three simple ways to care for yourself:

If the violence inflicted on Helen has affected you deeply, there are three simple things that can help to lessen the trauma and impact you are experiencing.

1. Limit your exposure.
   Stay informed, but give yourself permission to step away from continuous news coverage and social media updates, particularly before bed.
   You can care about what has happened without following every development.
2. Reconnect with the present.
   Take a walk, spend time in nature, breathe slowly, talk with someone you trust or do something ordinary that helps you feel safe in the here and now.
   Remind yourself that you are allowed to rest, even when someone else’s circumstances remain uncertain.
3. Turn helplessness into connection.
   Offer kindness, check on someone who may be struggling, express your concern constructively or support a cause that matters to you.
   You do not have to carry the entire weight of what has happened to demonstrate that you care.

If your distress persists, significantly affects your sleep or interferes with daily life, consider speaking with a qualified health professional.

Violence can spread. So can compassion.

We can’t undo what happened to Helen.
We can’t measure every ripple of its impact, nor can we remove the uncertainty and trauma people feel in its aftermath.

But we can recognise what is happening within ourselves and one another.
We can understand that our distress may reflect not only fear, but empathy, memory and our shared desire for a safer world.

Violence can travel through relationships, infiltrate whole communities, influence behaviour and affect people far removed from its immediate target.

When we understand these patterns, we have a better chance of interrupting the cycle rather than passing the harm on.

And perhaps this is where we must place our attention: not allowing violence to define us, but choosing what we will collectively nurture in its wake.

Violence can reach far beyond its immediate victim.
So can compassion.

Our shared humanity is a strength.
It is one of the most powerful resources we have for finding connection, restoring a sense of safety and creating a world in which violence is neither normalised nor passed on.
When Violence Reaches Beyond the Victim. Understanding Our Collective Response.

Across social media, thousands of Australians, particularly women, have expressed outrage, compassion, solidarity, anger, fear and a profound sense of powerlessness.
Many people who have never met Helen are deeply affected by what has happened.

Some are reporting disturbed sleep, persistent worry and a constant need to check for updates.
Why are we so affected by violence against someone we do not know?
And what happens when an act of violence reaches far beyond the person directly harmed?

Three concepts can help us understand these responses:
Lateral Violence
Vicarious Trauma and
“Collective Effervescence”.

Lateral violence: when the impact of violence reaches others

Violence does not end at the point where an attack takes place.
Its impact can travel far beyond the person directly targeted, reaching people who witness it, hear about it or identify with the person harmed. It can have a profound effect on the next generation and upon the lives who are not even born yet.

These are real emotional and psychological responses to a heinous act of violence.
Although people who are experiencing impact were not physically present, the event has affected:
a sense of safety
emotional wellbeing and
confidence in the world around them.

In the domestic violence sector, we understand that violence can have consequences well beyond the immediate victim.
We see how its effects reach children, families, friends and communities, sometimes long after the original incident.
A child exposed to violence at home, for example, may carry the fear, distress or learned behaviours into other relationships and the schoolyard.

In a different way, people witnessing the aftermath of violence against someone they identify with may experience fear, anger and distress as though the threat has moved closer to their own lives.

Lateral violence can be understood within the wider context of how violence against one person can affect others who share their identity, experiences or position in society.
When a prominent woman is subjected to violence, the impact can extend beyond her as an individual.
Other women, particularly those who occupy or aspire to occupy positions of public leadership, may experience the attack as a threat to their own safety, visibility and right to participate without fear.

The attack on Helen Haines has prompted women across Australia to express outrage, anger, fear, uncertainty and powerlessness.
For some, it has raised deeply personal questions about what it means to be a woman in public life and whether visibility, leadership and speaking out come at a cost.

In this sense, the violence has a lateral impact.
Its effects move across the community, reaching women who were not directly involved but who recognise the broader implications of what has happened.

The psychological and emotional consequences may include disturbed sleep, persistent worry, heightened vigilance and a renewed fear of violence.

Understanding this wider impact is important.
Violence against one woman can reverberate through the lives of many others, reinforcing a sense of vulnerability and reminding women of the risks they face when they step into public spaces or positions of authority.

The person directly attacked is not the only person affected. When violence against one woman generates fear among many others, its impact has reached beyond the individual and into the collective experience of women.

Vicarious trauma: when someone else’s experience affects us

Vicarious trauma describes the psychological impact that exposure to another person’s traumatic experiences can have on us.
It is well recognised among domestic violence workers, counsellors, emergency responders and others who regularly encounter trauma.

However, distress following exposure to violence can also affect members of the wider community.
We don’t need to know Helen personally to feel deeply affected by what has happened to her.

Some people may experience disturbed sleep, intrusive thoughts, anxiety, anger, sadness, difficulty concentrating, a heightened sense of danger or a persistent need to check for updates.

Others may feel helpless, particularly because they can’t do anything to change the situation.

For women who have experienced violence themselves, an attack of this nature may also trigger memories, fears and concerns about their own safety.
Recognising that exposure to violence, including through repeated news coverage and social media, can affect our sense of safety even when we are physically removed from the event put’s us on alert to self-care and processing the trauma we are experiencing.

The impact of violence cannot be measured simply by counting the people directly harmed.

Its effects can extend to families, friends, colleagues, witnesses and entire communities.
Violence can disrupt our sense of safety, violate our belief in fairness and leave us worrying about what might happen next.

Collective effervescence: the power of our shared humanity.
There is another concept that is irrelevant to the conversation about collective impact: “collective effervescence”.

Sociologist Émile Durkheim used this term to describe the powerful sense of connection, shared emotion and collective energy that can arise when people come together around a common experience.

Think about the moment an ambulance approaches with its siren sounding.
Drivers move aside, strangers make room, and for a moment everyone is working towards the same purpose.
There is a shared understanding that someone needs help.

We may never exchange a word, yet we participate in a small, beautiful expression of our common humanity.

We see something similar when Australians unite in compassion, send messages of support, contribute financially or stand alongside people who are hurting after bushfires.

Collective effervescence is not limited to joy or celebration.
Shared grief, outrage and concern can also bring people together.

When violence disrupts our sense of safety and fairness, our emotions can reverberate through the community.
We see the distress of others, recognise our own feelings reflected in theirs and discover that we are not alone.

This shared response can be powerful.
While violence can leave people feeling isolated, frightened and powerless, collective connection can help restore a sense of belonging and shared purpose.

Our collective emotions and spirit can be deeply affected by violence and trauma.
But that same capacity to feel together can also become a source of resilience, compassion and positive action.

Three simple ways to care for yourself:

If the violence inflicted on Helen has affected you deeply, there are three simple things that can help to lessen the trauma and impact you are experiencing.

1. Limit your exposure.
   Stay informed, but give yourself permission to step away from continuous news coverage and social media updates, particularly before bed.
   You can care about what has happened without following every development.
2. Reconnect with the present.
   Take a walk, spend time in nature, breathe slowly, talk with someone you trust or do something ordinary that helps you feel safe in the here and now.
   Remind yourself that you are allowed to rest, even when someone else’s circumstances remain uncertain.
3. Turn helplessness into connection.
   Offer kindness, check on someone who may be struggling, express your concern constructively or support a cause that matters to you.
   You do not have to carry the entire weight of what has happened to demonstrate that you care.

If your distress persists, significantly affects your sleep or interferes with daily life, consider speaking with a qualified health professional.

Violence can spread. So can compassion.

We can’t undo what happened to Helen.
We can’t measure every ripple of its impact, nor can we remove the uncertainty and trauma people feel in its aftermath.

But we can recognise what is happening within ourselves and one another.
We can understand that our distress may reflect not only fear, but empathy, memory and our shared desire for a safer world.

Violence can travel through relationships, infiltrate whole communities, influence behaviour and affect people far removed from its immediate target.

When we understand these patterns, we have a better chance of interrupting the cycle rather than passing the harm on.

And perhaps this is where we must place our attention: not allowing violence to define us, but choosing what we will collectively nurture in its wake.

Violence can reach far beyond its immediate victim.
So can compassion.

Our shared humanity is a strength.
It is one of the most powerful resources we have for finding connection, restoring a sense of safety and creating a world in which violence is neither normalised nor passed on.

Pauline Hanson believes domestic violence is a ‘two-way street”…

An Open Letter from a Woman Who Didn’t Survive:

Dear Pauline,
It came to my attention, from where I now sit, that you recently declared across the media that domestic violence is “a two-way street.”

I am writing to you because those words did more than reveal ignorance.
They erased me.

Before the man who eventually murdered me succeeded in taking my life, I did everything women are expected to do.
I tried to keep the peace.
I tried to make the relationship work.
I forgave.
I hoped.
I believed his promises.

I tried to protect my children.

Years before my murder, another man attacked me with a knife.

He also turned that knife on our two children.
The only reason any of us survived that day was because I pretended to be dead.
When he left the room, I ran, bleeding and screaming, carrying enough courage for all three of us.

My children lived because I escaped.

A few short years later, I could not save myself.
My children survived again, but this time they would spend the rest of their lives carrying something no child should ever carry: the murder of their mother.

So when you describe domestic violence as “a two-way street,” I wonder what road you imagine I was travelling?

Because I wasn’t travelling beside him.

I was trying to outrun him.

From this perspective, where politics no longer matters and truth is no longer negotiable, it is surprisingly easy to recognise certainty built upon ignorance.

It is a dangerous combination when someone who does not understand violence speaks about it with absolute confidence, especially when they hold a public platform.

My lifelong friend Carol was working in a domestic violence shelter the day she received the phone call telling her I had been murdered.
Carol understood.
She had grown up in a home shaped by domestic violence herself.

She knew, long before she worked in women’s refuges, what coercion feels like.
She has spent nearly forty years standing beside women like me, listening to stories that rarely made the evening news.

It wasn’t a two-way street in my home.

It wasn’t a two-way street in hers.

It wasn’t a two-way street for the thousands of women and children who have sought refuge in shelters across Australia.

Every day, an extraordinary army of workers, advocates, counsellors, police, lawyers, court staff, volunteers and refuge workers quietly help women, children and their beloved pets rebuild lives after years of coercive control, intimidation, terror and violence.

They understand that domestic homicide is almost never the result of “mutual conflict.” It is most often the final act of a long campaign of domination.

Words matter.

When influential people minimise coercive control or suggest equal responsibility where none exists, they don’t simply misunderstand the problem.
They make it harder for victims to recognise what is happening to them.
They make it easier for perpetrators to hide behind myths.
They delay our collective maturity as a society.
Your public life has often been built upon identifying groups of people as problems to be feared or blamed.
Asian Australians.
African Australians.
Muslim Australians.
Aboriginal Australians.

Your pattern is familiar: certainty without understanding.

Domestic violence deserves better than another slogan.

Before I died, I wasn’t simply “a victim.”
I loved my children.
I loved making beautiful things with my hands.
I laughed with friends.
I survived inner challenges that many people never knew about.

I dreamed about an ordinary future.
I was so much more than the way my life ended.

Yet history remembers me as another woman murdered by a man who believed he had the right to decide whether I lived or died.

That wasn’t a two-way street.
It was a dead end built by coercion, fear and violence.

If there is one thing I wish for you, Pauline, it is not shame.
It is understanding.
I hope no one you love ever has to discover the difference between political rhetoric and the brutal reality of domestic homicide.

Because once you have stood where I stood…
or where my children stood…
or where Carol stood that day the telephone rang…
you never again mistake violence and murder for mutuality.

Sincerely,
J.

*Update.
A very heartfelt thank you to everybody who has shared my post.
It wasn’t until 20 years after Janet’s murder that I was able to write the following.
The Day Janet was Murdered:

When the Graffiti Comes Down. Removing Trump’s name from another man’s legacy.

*Continuing a series of articles documenting Donald Trump’s use of coercive control in leadership.

Screenshot

A few months ago I wrote about the strange familiarity of Donald Trump attempting to place his name over institutions that existed long before him.
As a former youth worker I had seen the pattern before. The most challenging adolescent boys I worked with were often those who felt compelled to write their names across communal spaces.
They tagged walls, bus shelters & shared property, not because it belonged to them but because they needed to see themselves reflected back.
It was less an act of creativity than an act of possession.
Territory marking
Visibility
Power
Seeking significance & attention by defiling public property

This week the story took another turn.
A federal judge ordered that Donald Trump’s name be removed from the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts ruling that the board had exceeded its authority & that only Congress could alter the institution’s name.

Workers have now begun dismantling the signage & restoring the original title.

The image of those letters coming down is powerful because it reminds us that branding, especially when it is coercive, rooted in the intention to elevate a single man above all others is not the same as belonging.

Public institutions are repositories of shared memory, not blank walls waiting for the latest ego to leave its mark.

John D Miller, the former NBC marketing executive behind The Apprentice famously reflected, “I helped create a monster.” Link to video
He later described how the public had been “bombarded” with carefully curated images of Trump branding until the image itself became the product.

In many ways that saturation campaign never ended. The stage simply became larger.
The audience became the world.

Perhaps that’s why this moment resonates so deeply.
The removal of the signage is more than an administrative correction,it is a reminder that history, law & collective values can still push back against the relentless, grandiose drive to remake everything in one man’s image.

In my years working with significantly troubled young people, there was hope that maturity would bring a growing capacity to share space, respect boundaries & understand that not everything has to carry your name for your life to have meaning.
Healthy adulthood is built on contribution not possession & postulation.

Those who study narcissistic, grandiose behaviour know that status, control & public recognition are not superficial concerns.
They sit at the very centre of the personality structure & as a result challenges to grandiosity & ownership are often experienced not as disappointment but as injury.
When the symbolic graffiti comes down, the need to restore power can emerge elsewhere.

It will be worth watching not only what happens next, but who may become the target of retaliation for removing one man’s name from another man’s legacy.

Trump- a Toddler is Crowned King: When Grandiosity Becomes Governance

*Continuing a series of articles documenting Donald Trump’s use of coercive control in leadership.

In the same week that Donald Trump publicly attacked Pope Leo XIV, accusing him of being “weak on crime” & “terrible for foreign policy,” he posted an AI generated image of himself as a Christlike figure administering healing.

Donald Trump, a convicted felon, found civilly liable for sxul assault, has not been held meaningfully accountable.
By avoiding imprisonment & returning to the White House, he has created instability without accountability.

For those who work in coercive control & narcissistic abuse this outcome is not surprising.
This level of chaos is inevitable when power rests with an individual defined by grandiosity & a lack of psychological & emotional maturity.

This is not incidental or theatrical.
It is a textbook display of grandiose entitlement & narcissistic behaviour.

Trump’s attack was explicit & personal.

In a Truth Social post he criticised Pope Leo’s stance on war & peace & positioned himself as the stronger authority, even suggesting the Pope should be “thankful.”

Within hours his grandiosity escalated further, sharing an image of himself depicted as Jesus performing a miracle, visually placing himself in a divine role.

This is not confidence.
It is the elevation of self into a Godlike authority.
It reflects entitlement, delusion, superiority & a dangerous, asserted right to absolute power.

The message is unmistakable.
He alone is the authority.
He alone decides.
He alone saves.

We have already seen this pattern.

During his presidency Trump repeatedly acts unilaterally.
He declared a national emergency to redirect funds for the border wall after Congress refused.
He imposed tariffs under claims of national security without congressional approval.
He issued executive orders restricting travel from several Muslim majority countries, triggering legal challenge and global concern.

These are not isolated acts.
They are consistent with a mindset that resists constraint.

This is where the danger sharpens.
What begins as love bombing through MAGA rhetoric evolves into domination.
Admiration becomes fuel.
Validation is no longer sought.
It is assumed.

This mirrors coercive control.
Idealisation, then authority, then control.

Positioning himself as Christlike is not symbolic.
It is strategic.
Cult leaders consistently frame themselves as chosen, persecuted & uniquely capable of confronting enemies, often of their own making.

This creates dependency & loyalty that overrides critical thinking.

When this level of grandiosity is normalised, accountability erodes.
Opposition becomes betrayal.
Power becomes personal.
Pope Leo becomes just another character in the narcissistic playbook.
Dismissed, diminished, used as contrast.
In this script, no authority outranks the self appointed one.

This is not theatre. It is a warning.

A Father Wound behind the Making of Trump & Hitler?

Continuing a series of articles documenting Donald Trump’s use of coercive control in leadership.

It is a confronting question: how does a small boy full of possibility become a man capable of profound harm?

The image of a young Donald Trump contrasts with the adult later found liable of sxul assault against E Jean Carroll, inciting violence upon the Capitol & instrumental in devastating military action resulting in global instability.

A similar dissonance exists in photos of Hitler as a child before becoming responsible for atrocities of historic magnitude.

Psychologist Mary Trump describes her grandfather Fred Trump as domineering, emotionally withholding & obsessed with winning.
Affection was conditional &weakness unacceptable. .

This highly toxic, psychologically unsafe environment, Mary argues, fostered emotional suppression, grandiosity & a fragile, dangerous ego.

Similarly Hitlers father Alois was authoritarian, punitive & controlling, reinforcing fear, rigidity & submission.
All conditions that are known to distort identity & create poor emotional regulation.

The “father wound” provides a lens when early paternal relationships are marked by control, conditional approval or fear & trauma that the child may internalise, manifesting as deep feelings of inadequacy with, paradoxically, an inflated sense of self. An unquenchable need for power, attention & control.

These can present as narcissistic traits, including:
lack of empathy, entitlement, poor emotional regulation
& a need for revenge & retaliation when there is a real or imagined threat.

This intersects with coercive control.

Women in relationships with such men often contextualise harm through his childhood trauma, eg he was hurt in his childhood, therefore he hurts.
She will defend the idealised version of the person who is causing great harm.

This reflects a cultural narrative similar to the Beauty & the Beast fairytale, the belief that understanding will transform the wounded man!

History challenges this belief.
Eva Braun & women within Hitlers inner circle as well as visible female supporters surrounding Trump illustrate a recurring dynamic of admiration, alignment, positioning themselves in proximity to power & enabling a dangerous man without conscience.
They participate in sustaining power structures that normalise harm.

The critical question becomes systemic: what happens when childhood wounds internalise & turn toxic, where the ego remains arrested at a self absorbed level with limited capacity or desire to consider impact on others.

Are we currently witnessing the externalisation of unprocessed trauma, amplified by systems that reward dominance & control?
Can democracies be so easily leveraged, distorted & overtaken?

Would early intervention, cultural accountability & structural safeguards have prevented wounded boys becoming dangerous men who project their malignant trauma onto the world?

The Language of Coercive Control Used by the President of the United States.

This article documents how convicted felon Donald Trump deploys
insult
projection
cult affirmation &
expulsion rhetoric in a social media post that mirrors coercive control dynamics on a national & politically destabilising stage.

The post attacks Ilhan Omar & Rashida Tlaib as “Low IQ”, “lunatics”, “mentally deranged & sick”, describing “bulging, bloodshot eyes” & suggesting they “should be institutionalised”.

This is not policy critique but sustained dehumanisation.

He extends the same to Robert De Niro, calling him “sick & demented” with “extremely Low IQ” & to Rosie O’Donnell as “Crazy”.

The language resembles an angry schoolyard bully & signals limited emotional regulation in response to dissent.

The phrase “send them back from where they came” invokes exile, exclusion & conditional belonging.

Elected officials are reframed as foreign intruders rather than representatives chosen by voters.

Dehumanisation lowers resistance to punitive treatment & normalises hostility.

The structure then pivots sharply.
America is declared “Bigger, Better, Richer & Stronger”.

The nation is “beautiful” & “elegant”.

Supporters are implicitly aligned with greatness; critics are cast as defective, corrupt & “driven crazy”.

Screenshot

This reflects classic cult dynamics:

• Elevate the in group as special & superior
• Demonise or pathologise dissenters
• Equate loyalty with patriotism
• Frame criticism as sickness or treachery

The alternating degradation of outsiders & affirmation of insiders functions as political love bombing.
He accuses others of being “seriously CRIMINAL” despite his 2024 conviction in New York on 34 felony counts of falsifying business records.

Criminality is condemned outwardly while reframed as persecution when applied to him.

Projection operates as self righteousness.

In civil proceedings brought by E. Jean Carroll, a jury found he sxully abused & defamed her in 2023.
In 2024 he was again found liable for defamation for attacking her after that verdict, with substantial additional damages awarded.

Retaliatory statements generated further liability.
Perceived challenge was met not with restraint but escalation.

Coercive control commonly involves:

• Verbal degradation
• Financial threats or withdrawal
• Monitoring & environmental domination
• Isolation of the target
• Alternating affirmation with intimidation

.The psychological pattern mirrors intimate partner coercion but played out before institutions, allies & adversaries.
Such communication erodes America’s global standing.
Personalised outbursts suggest grievance over governance.

When a convicted felon found liable for sexual abuse & defamation labels opponents criminal, deranged or unfit for belonging, hypocrisy is not incidental but structural to the method.

In private life this destabilises families & on a national stage it destabilises political culture & weakens democratic norms.

Unchecked Power & the Mechanics of Coercive Control in America today.Part 2

Punishment As Policy Through The Lens Of Coercive Control. Trump’s Campaign to Seize Greenland.

In Part 1 (link) in a series of articles documenting the use of coercive control in leadership, I highlighted how Donald Trump’s use of coercion, that the U.S. must control Greenland, caused visible distress to Greenland’s Foreign Minister Vivian Motzfeldt.

This 2nd article examines his escalation from pressure to punishment.

According to reporting from Huff Post Trump has now stated he may “punish” countries with tariffs if they do not support the United States controlling Greenland.

He described any outcome other than US control as unacceptable & framed compliance as a national security obligation.

When viewed through the lens of coercive control rather than political negotiation the behaviour is not abstract.
It mirrors the same dynamics experienced by people living with intimate partner abuse driven by narcissism entitlement & grandiosity.

Below are 5 clear ways this behaviour replicates coercive control.

1. Punishment For Non Compliance:
   Trump explicitly threatens tariffs if countries do not agree. In abusive relationships punishment is used to enforce obedience. Affection, autonomy, money, safety & freedom are often withdrawn until compliance there is compliance.
2. Escalation When Resistance Appears:
   Diplomatic engagement did not produce submission so the tactic escalated. This mirrors how coercive control intensifies when a partner does not give in.
3. Framing Control As Necessity:
   By declaring control of Greenland necessary Trump removes the legitimacy of consent. Abusers often frame domination as “protection” or inevitability or safety they must enforce.
4. Use Of Economic Power As Leverage:
   Tariffs are not negotiation tools they are weapons. Financial control is one of the most common mechanisms of intimate partner abuse used to limit choice & independence.
5. Emotional Impact Is Treated As Irrelevant:
   The visible distress of Minister Motzfeldt is ignored. In coercive control the emotional harm caused is dismissed as collateral or weakness rather than recognised as real.

When the media stops reporting these actions as exceptional political theatre & instead recognises them as coercive control, the pattern becomes unmistakable & is exposed.

The source of the behaviour is the same as that endured by partners living with domination, punishment & enforced compliance.

Coercive control impacts both those who are directly targeted & vicariously as the atmosphere of coercion, instability & on-going threats does not have boundaries.

Coercion creates ripples that contribute to a sense of instability, powerlessness, irrationality & the mental & emotional health impact of living with the possibility of escalation & punishment.

With coercion, there is no accountability, systems collapse & chaos inevitably follows.

Unchecked Power & the Mechanics of Coercive Control in America today Part 1.

The headline today was stark.
A Greenland minister tearful as she described “intense pressure” while Donald Trump threatens to take territory.

This is not diplomacy or accountability.
This is coercive control.

Vivian Motzfeldt met with US Vice President JD Vance at the White House to discuss the future of the Danish territory.

What followed was not respectful negotiation but pressure exerted from a position of overwhelming power imbalance.

Toxic masculinity.
The emotional toll was visible. The language was telling.

For those of us who work in the field of domestic abuse & coercive control the pattern is instantly recognisable.

Coercive control is not about physical force first.

It is about:
threats
dominance
intimidation
destabilisation &
the removal of choice.

It relies on fear, intimidation, creating uncertainty & the relentless assertion of entitlement.

Donald Trump is no longer love bombing.
That phase is long over.
Love bombing was used to secure MAGA attachment & compliance from “My beautiful Christians”.
Once position & power are secured it is dropped.

What replaces it is threat, pressure & entitlement.

We are watching that transition unfold in real time on a global stage.

Threatening to take territory is not foreign policy bravado.
It mirrors the language of an abusive partner who believes they have the right to take, to override consent, to disregard autonomy.

The message is simple:
I decide. You comply.

The impact is also the same.
Stress responses escalate. Trauma is activated.
Decision making narrows. Public officials, like victims in private relationships, are forced into a state of vigilance rather than clarity.

Tears are not weakness.
They are evidence of psychological strain under sustained pressure.

This is what unchecked power looks like when wielded by someone with a history of disregard for boundaries, law & accountability.
That history matters.

A convicted felon holding immense political & military influence is not a neutral detail.
It is a warning sign.

When someone who has already demonstrated contempt for legal & ethical constraints is elevated rather than restrained, coercive behaviour doesn’t soften.
It intensifies.

Some may think comparing domestic abuse to geopolitics is inappropriate.
In reality coercive control operates on the same principles whether it occurs in a kitchen, boardroom or an international negotiation:
Entitlement.
Intimidation.
Pressure.
Erosion of autonomy.

The scale changes.
The system does not.

When power goes unchecked, the consequences are not abstract.
They are lived in nervous systems, in sleepless nights, in public tears & private fear. Whether the target is a partner or a nation, the damage follows the same path.

Recognising coercive control is the first line of defence. Normalising it as “strong leadership” is how harm becomes policy!

I Am Woman – Not a spare rib of Man.

*Excerpt from memoir in progress: Defiant Women by Carol Omer

We learn a great deal about a society by interrogating it’s core Creation Myth.
All religions pass on stories about Origin.

The original garden story carries a deep and enduring toxicity in the way it casts Eve as contemptuous, weak and easily seduced, aligned with a snake and by extension the devil, a narrative that functions as the first witch hunt and the template for mistrusting women’s curiosity, knowledge and autonomy.

This framing did not merely shape theology, it laid the psychological foundations of a world in which men are positioned as superior, women as suspect, and women themselves are taught to watch men watching them, absorbing the gaze and the judgement.

It is vital that Women interrogate this story because it still influences our collective psychology, normalising surveillance by an invisible and powerful male authority while severing women from Mother Nature, intuition and embodied wisdom.

In replacing earth, Nature, rhythm, cycles and elemental belonging with control, obedience and a man made order of concrete and rules, the story trains both men and Women to distrust the natural feminine and to mistake domination for moral authority, a distortion that continues to shape how power, gender and worth are understood today.

Donald Trump & the Epstein Files – Part 2

*Continuing a series of articles highlighting the correlation between Donald Trump’s behaviours & the cycle of #CoerciveControl.

When the United States president uses his Truth Social account to describe critics as Democrat ”scum” it is not merely inflammatory language. 
It is a visible example of a well documented abuse tactic known as DARVO. 

This article builds on my previous piece to further explain what DARVO is & how it operates both in intimate partner abuse & in politics as a strategy to avoid accountability.

#DARVO  is an acronym that is commonly used in the area of domestic abuse & coercive control education.
It stands for:
Deny
Attack
Reverse 
Victim and 
Offender. 

It is a manipulation pattern identified in domestic violence research where a perpetrator responds to accountability by :
1. first denying harm
2. then attacking the credibility of the person raising concerns, 
3. reversing roles to present themselves as the victim.

The sequence matters. 
Denial comes first. 
The harmful behaviour is minimised, reframed or claimed to have never occurred. 

When denial is challenged, the attack phase begins. 

The accuser is labelled unstable, dishonest, malicious, crazy and / or dangerous. 
The perpetrator then claims persecution & casts themselves as the true victim of injustice.

This tactic is widely recognised by practitioners working in coercive control. 
It is used to:
confuse victims
distort reality 
discredit truth &
shift attention away from accountability and onto character assassination. 

Over time, it trains others to doubt those who speak up & to sympathise with the person in power.

In the context of Donald Trump & his long documented association with Jeffrey Epstein, the same pattern is visible. 
Questions about proximity, knowledge & responsibility are met with vehement denial, vitriolic name calling, insults, threats & irrelevant distractions.

When scrutiny persists, journalists, political opponents & women are further threatened & attacked as corrupt or deceitful. 

The final reversal positions Trump as the self proclaimed victim of a “witch hunt” & conspiracies.

This is not accidental rhetoric. 

It is a deliberate use of DARVO at scale. 

In intimate relationships, this tactic silences survivors. 

In political leadership it erodes public trust, destabilises truth & normalises the abuse of power.

DARVO is effective because it exploits empathy & fatigue. 
People want to avoid complexity & conflict. 
They are also aware that by speaking out they could be targeted next.

But understanding this pattern exposes the manipulation.
Denial is not evidence. 
Attacks are not defence. 
Victimhood claims do not erase misuse of power, accountability or criminal conduct.

Recognising DARVO is not about ideology, it’s is about identifying coercive control wherever it appears. 

Accountability begins when behaviour is examined rather than deflected.


Image Source: Crimestoppers Vic.