
How Witnessing Violence Impacts Brain Development (opinion)
On Sept. 10, a public lecture at Utah Valley University became the site of a nightmare when the political commentator Charlie Kirk was killed before thousands of students. Whatever one thinks of Kirk’s politics, the trauma endured by those young witnesses will last far longer than the news cycle. For adolescents, such moments do not fade when the cameras leave. They etch themselves into the brain—literally. Witnessing violence, even indirectly, negatively impacts brain development.
At the University of Southern California’s Center for Affective Neuroscience, Development, Learning and Education (CANDLE), our colleagues recently studied how violence exposure shapes young people. Again and again, the evidence is stark: When adolescents witness or hear about violence in their communities, their developing brains bear the burden. The anterior cingulate cortex—a region critical for processing stress and pain, emotional regulation, motivation, learning, and social connection—has a greater decrease in gray-matter volume in adolescents exposed to more community violence. This pattern of gray-matter volume decrease has been seen in ground troops deployed to war and in people affected by post-traumatic stress disorder. It has been linked to anxiety, depression and difficulty sustaining attention.
Yet neuroscience also points to a path forward. Our newest research, published this year in the Journal of Research on Adolescence, offers a striking counterpoint: Adolescents are not passive victims of their environments. They have within them the capacity to buffer these harms, within themselves and within society. That capacity is what we call transcendent thinking.
Transcendent thinking is the ability to move beyond the immediate details of an event and consider the complexities that characterize a diverse society, to explore perspectives that differ or conflict with one’s own and to contemplate the bigger picture: What does this mean for me, for my community, for justice and fairness? When teenagers reflect in these ways, they are not escaping reality but engaging it more deeply. They are searching for meaning, considering multiple perspectives and placing their experience in a larger human story. This, in turn, helps them imagine how things might be different, and how they might contribute to the change.
In our study of 55 urban adolescents, those who more frequently engaged in transcendent reflection about social issues showed a greater increase in gray-matter volume in the anterior cingulate cortex two years later—the very brain region seen to be most vulnerable to violence exposure. In other words, transcendent thinking didn’t erase the negative effects, but it appeared to give young people’s brains some scaffolding to adapt and heal.
This has profound implications for how we respond to political and community violence. The instinct, understandably, is to shield young people from harsh realities. But shielding won’t work. Adolescents are already encountering violence—whether on the street, online or in lecture halls. What they need are the tools to make sense of it, to weave their experiences into narratives of purpose and agency rather than despair. And for this, they need curiosity about the experiences of others and safe opportunities to think across difference.
Fortunately, transcendent thinking is not rarefied or inaccessible. It is something every young person can do and likely already does spontaneously. The challenge is to nurture it deliberately and thoughtfully. Schools and colleges can make space for students to grapple with complex social issues and to connect classroom learning with ethical and civic questions. Families and communities can invite adolescents into intergenerational storytelling, where young people see how others have wrestled with hardship and injustice. Education that emphasizes civic reasoning and dialogue can strengthen not only academic outcomes but also neurological resilience and long-term well-being.
This is both a scientific and a civic imperative. Neuroscience is showing us that meaning making changes the brain. We need support for educators to find ways to translate that science into daily practices that help young people transform tragedy into purpose. Our vision is to illuminate the capacities that empower adolescents to question their and others’ beliefs, to engage across difference, to imagine futures and work to create the world they want to live in.
The tragedy at Utah Valley University underscores how high the stakes have become. America’s young people are coming of age amid rising polarization and public acts of violence. We cannot protect them or shield them from it, but we can equip them to counter its developmental impacts.
Transcendent thinking is not a cure-all. But it is a proven developmental asset that can buffer the effects of witnessing community violence on the brain. It is also a civic skill we urgently need: the ability to see beyond the present conflicts and tragedies to the larger questions of justice, community and meaning.
If we want to safeguard both adolescent development and democratic life, we must equip schools, colleges, families and communities with the tools to cultivate transcendent thinking.
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