Children, War, and the Power of Play: The experience in Gaza
- creative-therapies
- Aug 19
- 6 min read
Updated: 7 days ago
by Claudio Mochi, MA, RP, RPT-S™
These days, I believe each of us is struck by what is happening in Israel, the West Bank, and the Gaza Strip. I worked as a psychologist in the Middle East almost twenty years ago, and I would like to share with you some memories and reflections on children, war, and the power of play. What I will tell you has no political connotation; it is a reflection on the pressure that crisis conditions and war place on individuals, the importance of teachers’ work, and the beneficial power of play for children.
The Gaza Strip is one of the most difficult contexts I have ever worked in, but also one of the places where I experienced one of my most pleasant surprises. It was 2005, and there were still settlements in Gaza. In a cluster of houses surrounded by these settlements stood a small kindergarten. The surrounding environment was characterized by buildings collapsed under the weight of gunfire and the air often shaken by explosions. People living there suffered from restrictions on basic needs and limited freedom of movement outside that small strip of land.
The presence of the settlements made access difficult even for the Palestinian Red Crescent staff. I remember vividly that isolated building which, though it looked abandoned, was the only one that bore no signs of conflict. The modest structure stood in the sand, surrounded by a few bare shrubs and some toys, a seemingly futile attempt to offer children opportunities for recreation.
At that time, I had already gained experience in contexts marked by loss, destruction, and unspeakable suffering, but it was the first time I found myself working in an environment where no one could guarantee physical safety. The closer I got to the entrance, the more I was overwhelmed by a sense of helplessness and by the conviction that therapeutic or psychological support made little sense in a place where no protection could be assured.
As I stepped inside the kindergarten, I was stunned: in a small, overcrowded space the young students were running, playing, and having fun under the watchful eyes of their teachers. Each time I crossed that threshold, I felt as though I were entering a parallel world made of games and joyful shouts, a world of make-believe where the children described and rewrote their reality through play.
I clearly remember the vibrant energy of those children, as well as the richness of their pretend play. Some recreated everyday scenes like a family walk or a party. Others imagined themselves as princesses or heroes of fantastic stories. Some fought, others destroyed only to rebuild again. Every scenario was filled with possibilities, standing in stark contrast to the harsh reality that awaited beyond the moment of play.
The kindergarten teachers supported and facilitated the children’s endeavors, offering a calm, reassuring smile despite what was happening outside.
I often stopped to wonder what made all this possible. As a whole, those children were exposed to a multitude of critical factors. It’s impossible to generalize, but for all of them, daily life could be disrupted at any moment by explosions, further destruction, and sudden military operations.
Research shows that the situations most distressing to our emotional state are those combining a high perception of threat to our own safety with the loss of loved ones. I believe the likelihood that some of those children had suffered bereavement was very high. Adding to this was the prolonged, chronic nature of the exposure and their young age. Over time, I realized that while all the ingredients for destabilizing a person’s existence were present, so too were those that protect health: the powers of human connection and play, which create a sense of safety and opportunities for growth.
None of those children living through a period of war in Gaza were aware of the learning and therapeutic value of their play. They didn’t know that while tossing a ball to one another or starting a variety of games, they were actually developing different skills and coping with the stress caused by such an extreme environment. Play allows children to process and master complex situations and to develop skills useful in overcoming challenges.
Play cultivates resilience and strengthens neural circuits that help optimize physiological state regulation, allowing a quick transition from a state of activation to one of calm.
I visited that kindergarten only a few times — far fewer than I would have liked — but that experience, more than others, crystallized for me some revealing aspects of human nature. First, as highlighted by numerous studies on trauma and critical events:
the attitude of carers provides a powerful protective factor even against the most overwhelming circumstances. Adults are dispensers of safety for children.
As Masten and colleagues affirm, one of the most enduring findings in the literature on war and disasters is the protective effect that the proximity of parents and other attachment figures offers to children, even in the most terrifying, life-threatening situations. Resilience can be nurtured, and in the interactions I witnessed in that small kindergarten, the children undoubtedly enjoyed their present while fostering their growth and developing abilities to face difficulties.
Secondly, nonetheless, an important part of what was happening was invisible to the eye. To what extent the protective factors can truly counterbalance the force of such extreme situations? Adaptation to traumatic circumstances is a dynamic and complex process that involves multiple systems interacting both within and outside the individual and this is not always immediately visible.
Scientific research shows that exposure to challenges can make an organism increasingly adept at handling difficult situations, but it also indicates that each of us has limits.
Once a certain threshold is exceeded, we can develop vulnerabilities that become permanent traits of our personality, traits we must deal with for our entire lives. Factors such as young age, the nature of the event, the degree of control we have over it (or the sense of helplessness it produces), its duration, the addition of further stressors, the support we receive, and the physiological cost of all this play a role. There is something incredible in human nature that allows us to face extreme situations, but it is equally delicate.
Unfortunately, no one becomes permanently immune to adversity; it is unthinkable to constantly face critical situations without the support of others. Well-being rests on fragile balances. Thinking back to the teachers of that small, crowded kindergarten, I realize that despite the difficulties of the context, they managed to offer children a shield against the harshest experiences and a range of growth opportunities. But what was the emotional and psychological cost of engaging, distracting, co-regulating, self-regulating, stimulating, and protecting children in such a challenging and dangerous context? What kind of support could those teachers count on outside their workplace?
Any attempt to manage difficult or extreme situations, such as in Gaza, is taxing on the body, and we cannot know our breaking point.
The efforts of some individuals and groups can easily falter, decisively upsetting a delicate balance. Everything can become unmanageable, especially when we have no one close by to support us. I am glad that, even in that circumstance, I avoided rushing to conclusions, refrained from imposing my tools and advanced studies, and limited my intervention to supporting the supporters.
Many years after my experience in the Middle East and in many other crisis contexts worldwide, I have reached one awareness: the most difficult situation in one person’s life can be another person’s daily experience. It is hard to grasp that some situations truly exist and that critical, terrible events happen regularly to some people. This thought greatly helps me. In my work, it facilitates the shift from judgment to understanding, and in my private life, it moves me from complaint and impatience to reflection and action.
Claudio Mochi, MA, RP, RPT-S™ is Director of the University Master’s Program in Play Therapy at the International Academy for Play Therapy (INA), Founder and President of the Association for Play Therapy Italy (APTI). A Psychologist, Psychotherapist, and Registered Play Therapist Supervisor™, he specializes in emergency interventions and disaster mental health, with 25 years of international experience. He has presented on Play Therapy and Trauma across six continents and over 20 countries, and is the author of books, chapters, and numerous articles.
©2025 INA Play Therapy Press. Article n. 1 in the Series: Play is the Future
You’re welcome to share excerpts of this work with proper credit and a link back. Reproduction of the full content without written permission of the author is prohibited. This article was originally published by the online newspaper Radio Bullets on October 21, 2023. Translated by INA Play Therapy Press with permission for the Article Series: Play is the Future. www.radiobullets.com/rubriche/bambini-guerra-e-il-potere-del-gioco
Claudio, your perspective is particularly meaningful: avoiding rushed interventions in crisis settings and instead emphasizing the power of play and the relational role of kindergarten teachers in supporting children 💗