Deconstruction and Peacebuilding
by Bryan Carey
Let me tell you about my first experience seeing someone go through a deeply painful experience of deconstruction.
It was a nonreligious Serb.
I had been invited to a peacebuilding program in eastern Bosnia and Herzegovina, a region now mostly inhabited by Serbs, to learn about the past and how to grapple with it. This young Serb had grown up believing what he had always been told: that his people were the heroic victims of the Bosnian war after Yugoslavia’s breakup in the 1990s. Any claims to the contrary were dismissed as “lies.”
However, in the town of Foća during the war, Serb forces had committed ethnic cleansing, atrocities, and even set up a rape camp. At this program, I witnessed this young man hear first-hand accounts of those horrors—accounts from survivors and even fellow Serbs. In an instant, the foundation of his worldview cracked.
A rude awakening indeed.
This catalytic learning experience launched him onto a deeply painful journey of unlearning the simple, comforting narrative he had been raised with. He now had to wrestle with a complex reality, one in which his own community had committed terrible wrongs. You can imagine the shock, denial, and numbness that followed.
His experience reflects a well-documented emotional pattern. As the following diagram illustrates, the process of deconstruction often follows a “valley” shape:
The descent—initial attempts to rationalize new information, denial, fear, and emotional upheaval as we grapple with a changing worldview, identity, and relationship to our community of origin.
The pit—deep discomfort, social alienation, loneliness, and even depression.
The ascent—slow but meaningful reconstruction, finding new frameworks, community, strengths, and joy.
At first, we struggle to integrate conflicting information into our existing identity. We ask difficult questions that many in our community don’t want to hear—or we stay silent, knowing that questioning openly could mean rejection. Some lose relationships. Some spiral into isolation or depression.
In the pit, or this “dark night of the soul,” we are forced to confront not just new information, but also the mechanics of how narratives are shaped, who controls them, and why they persist. We begin to see power dynamics at play—how history is told (or erased), how institutions protect themselves, and how certain voices are elevated while others are silenced. This is a period of intense learning, where critical thinking becomes an essential survival skill. We learn to ask sharper questions: Who benefits from this narrative? What structures keep it in place? What does it cost to challenge it? Some get stuck in this valley, overcome by cynicism or disillusionment. But the valley is not just a place of disillusionment—it’s also a training ground. If we can resist the pull of despair, it can cultivate in us something even more powerful: discernment, resilience, and a deep capacity for empathy with people who have been hurt.
“We are forced to confront not just new information, but also the mechanics of how narratives are shaped, who controls them, and why they persist. We begin to see power dynamics at play—how history is told (or erased), how institutions protect themselves, and how certain voices are elevated while others are silenced. This is a period of intense learning, where critical thinking becomes an essential survival skill. We learn to ask sharper questions: Who benefits from this narrative? What structures keep it in place? What does it cost to challenge it?”
Persisting through grief and uncertainty allows us to begin the difficult but rewarding work of rebuilding a worldview with less fear and more wisdom. The journey out of the valley is not about returning to naive certainty but about developing a nuanced, open-handed way of holding truth—one that makes space for complexity and mystery. This is where we make a choice: we can allow our newfound awareness to push us toward detachment and cynicism, or we can let it deepen our capacity for empathy and connection. The black-and-white narratives we once held give way to something more complex but also more beautiful. We learn to see the humanity in those we once viewed as “the other.” We develop compassion—not only for those our community once taught us to fear, but also for our own community, recognizing that they, too, are shaped by inherited fears and wounds. In this way, deconstruction does not have to alienate us from others. It can actually equip us to engage more meaningfully with the world, to stand in solidarity with those who are marginalized, and to build relationships grounded in empathy rather than fear.
Many resist the word “deconstruction”, preferring terms like “reimagination”, “human development”, or “maturation.” But for those who have been through the painful and isolating valley experience, “deconstruction” captures the reality of loss that comes with unlearning a worldview too narrow to make sense of the complexity of the beautiful and broken world around us.
Only more recently did I hear about “deconstruction” in Christian circles, where many have whispered about it, and others celebrated or condemned it. But clearly, as in this case in Bosnia, deconstruction isn’t an exclusively “Christian” phenomenon. Deconstruction is a very normal and natural process of unlearning and relearning, which all people all over the world experience at one time or another to various degrees throughout their lives. It is a natural part of human development.
“Deconstruction is a very normal and natural process of unlearning and relearning, which all people all over the world experience at one time or another to various degrees throughout their lives. It is a natural part of human development.”
In fact, deconstruction is happening more and more frequently because in our hyper-diverse and globalized world, people are exposed to differences like never before in history. This exposure to new relationships, information, and emotional experiences is creating catalytic moments of dissonance related to our inherited worldviews. This process is becoming increasingly impossible to avoid. Whereas we used to be able to self-isolate, the internet, increased travel, social media, and diversification have caused embracing unlearning and relearning as the easier and healthier choice.
Deconstruction is not a process we have to trudge through on our own, though. It is healthier, and we are healthier, when deconstruction is normalized in a community. Many religious communities unintentionally use theologies of fear to pressure community members to bottle up their questions and conform to the group. But the more we put up barriers against questioning our inherited beliefs and narratives — the higher the “walls” to stop the dam from breaking to catalyze this process — the deeper the “valley” and pain of deconstruction. Instead, we must engage questions and cognitive dissonance as a normal part of our development (including our faith journeys), making space for others and ourselves to wrestle with inherited beliefs and narratives. We must build our capacity for critical thinking while working to sustain healthy community and mutual support through experiences of uncertainty, pain, questions, and doubt.
We have inherited a great deal that prevents us from seeing, connecting and empathizing with, and standing in solidarity alongside others. But the ease with which we can learn about and connect empathically with out-groups today means that you and I have more opportunities than ever in the history of the world to unlearn these unhealthy inherited beliefs and narratives and relearn a more Christlike way in solidarity with those who are hurting and marginalized. We can build a more empathic and nuanced narrative and worldview, for ourselves and our communities, so we can all become better peacebuilders and followers of Jesus.
Deconstruction is not a threat. Our challenge today is not to give in to fear, but rather embrace deconstruction as an opportunity to mature as aspiring peacebuilders, following Jesus on his mission to build a holistic and just peace for everyone.
This blog was originally posted at: https://bryanandstephanie.wordpress.com/2024/05/27/deconstruction-peacebuilding/
Bryan is Peace Catalyst Director of International Peacebuilding, based in Bosnia and Herzegovina. In 2016 Bryan and his wife Stephanie moved to the Balkan region, where they have been learning alongside and supporting the work of Muslim, Catholic, and Orthodox peacebuilders. Bryan hosts workshops, conducts trainings, and teaches about peace-oriented theology, peacebuilding practices, and how Christian groups can get involved in community peacebuilding. Learn more about Bryan here.
