MORAL INJURY, SUICIDE, AND THE PROMISE OF HEATHENRY IN VETERAN COMMUNITIES

The crisis of suicide among post-9/11 U.S. veterans has generated a vast literature seeking to explain its unprecedented scale. According to the Department of Veterans Affairs, veterans are at significantly greater risk of suicide than their civilian peers, despite the array of modern treatments for post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and depression. Helen C. Epstein’s recent book, Why Live: How Suicide Becomes an Epidemic (2025), argues that suicide epidemics emerge not simply from psychiatric disease but from social ruptures and moral injuries that undermine people’s deepest attachments and codes of meaning. Among combat veterans, she highlights how childhood trauma, compounded by the guilt or shame of killing, may drive suicidality.

This article explores her argument and extends it. Moral injury—defined as the psychic wound that results when one violates deeply held moral codes through action or inaction—has become central to contemporary veteran mental health research. Yet moral injury is not universal in its effects: its intensity depends on the moral framework through which the warrior interprets killing. While in Christian traditions killing is often perceived as a sin (“Thou shalt not kill”), in pre-Christian Norse and Germanic traditions a distinction is drawn between murder (dishonorable) and killing in battle (honorable). This difference in moral codes suggests that heathenry, when internalized as a living worldview, may mitigate moral injury and therefore reduce suicide risk. To develop this claim, we must first examine the data on religion, spirituality, and suicide.

Religion, Spirituality, and Suicide: Two Patterns

A large body of epidemiological research indicates that religiosity is generally protective against suicide. Myself in working SERE issues I studied accounts of American POWs in North Vietnam and those that were spiritual had a higher rate of survival.  Systematic reviews find that religious affiliation and participation correlate with lower rates of suicide attempts and completions, though not necessarily with lower suicidal ideation (Lawrence et al., 2016). Longitudinal studies in the United Kingdom and United States confirm that Protestants and Catholics exhibit lower suicide risks than the unaffiliated (O’Reilly et al., 2015; Dervic et al., 2004). Cross-cultural studies further reveal ritual effects: in Turkey, for instance, suicides drop measurably during Ramadan, when community integration intensifies (Ajdacic-Gross et al., 2014). These findings echo Émile Durkheim’s classic insight that social integration through religion exerts a protective effect against suicide.

Yet this general pattern is complicated in military populations. Several studies suggest that highly religious individuals who attempt suicide may do so with greater determination, precisely because they perceive themselves as violating divine norms or unable to reconcile their deeds with their spiritual code (Kopacz et al., 2016). In clinical populations, some researchers have found that depressed patients with religious affiliation report higher rates of past suicide attempts than the unaffiliated (Rasic et al., 2011). This paradox points toward the second pattern: while spirituality can protect against suicide, strong spirituality may exacerbate suicide risk if the individual perceives themselves as having transgressed the moral codes of their faith. This is particularly relevant for veterans raised in traditions where killing is proscribed.

Moral Injury in Christian and Secular Contexts

The concept of moral injury emerged from the work of psychiatrist Jonathan Shay (1994), who described Vietnam veterans devastated by “a betrayal of what’s right.” Litz et al. (2009) expanded the definition to include any act that violates one’s fundamental moral expectations, including killing in combat, failing to prevent harm, or witnessing atrocities. Moral injury is marked not only by guilt but by shame, alienation, and spiritual despair. Recent studies link moral injury to increased suicide ideation, attempts, and completion rates among post-9/11 veterans, often more strongly than PTSD itself.

For those raised in Christian traditions, killing in war—even under orders—can present an unresolvable contradiction. The Decalogue’s prohibition “Thou shalt not kill” is widely internalized, despite centuries of theological efforts to differentiate murder from just war. Popular preaching and cultural Christianity frequently blur these distinctions. Thus, when a Christian soldier kills—even an enemy combatant—he or she may feel they have transgressed a divine commandment. The result is cognitive dissonance: the act is socially valorized but spiritually condemned. Epstein’s emphasis on childhood moral codes as a factor in later moral injury aligns with this: the earlier and deeper the code is instilled, the more profound the psychic wound is when it is violated.

This framework may help explain why some studies find that strong religiosity, though generally protective, can exacerbate distress among veterans who feel irreparably stained by their actions. For such individuals, spiritual resources become double-edged: the community may provide support, but its doctrines may intensify shame.

When Germany went to war at the start of World War I the makeup of the Germany Army was mostly Protestant, 40 percent Catholic and the remainder Jewish.  As the war went on many frontline soldiers found these Judeo-Christian religious systems inadequate to deal with the stress of combat they were facing in the trenches.

This included their experiences they were sharing of wartime camaraderie and death.  A new book: “Trauma, Religion, and Spirituality in Germany during the First World War” by Jason Crouthamel examines this subject.  One of the interesting aspects of this is that German soldiers sought ways to modify their Judeo-Christian beliefs to fit better with trench warfare and they sought alternatives to the three major religions.  Many found refuge in ancient Germanic ideas, images, and symbols that included the Norse Gods, Goddesses, heroes like Siegfried and especially the concepts of warrior’s death and Valhalla.  There were German soldiers who found comfort in the image of a Valkyrie coming for them if they fell. 

Crouthamel also discusses in his book this issue of “moral injury.”  Christian soldiers have killed but the point is what happens to you as an individual when you have been raised that killing is bad morally - even in the militarized monarchy of prewar Germany?  For some German soldiers this resulted in the feeling that their government was following an immoral war, that they were “transgressing moral norms.”  Following the war, there were many neo-Pagan groups that sprung up in Germany whose membership was composed of veterans.  Some existed before the war, but they grew.  This along with the idea for the frontline soldiers that war had reshaped them - they were new men - hardened by their experience and facing the dismal reality of German defeat and economic hardships. 

Since its founding, Odin’s Warrior Tribe has also reflected a similar experience of our many combat veterans who sought a belief system where the warrior code we fought under serves as an integral part of our faith.  We found this in our Norse/Germanic faith.  One of the books that we have always recommended on warrior reintegration is "Tribe" by Sebastain Junger.  The World War One German soldiers by creating alternative beliefs and resurrecting pre-Christian beliefs of warrior virtue found coping mechanisms.  We see this with many of our modern combat buddies who align themselves as Christians due to tradition, but through the crucible of combat they have become truly heathen warriors in outlook – though many won’t admit it.

After the long wars of Afghanistan, Iraq, and Syria we see a similar phenomenon going on in Western militaries to that of the German WWI experience.  Even non heathens in elite military units now commonly refer to Valhalla as the destination for fallen warriors. 

Recently a new film adaptation of the anti-war book "All Quiet on the Western Front" "Im Westen nichts Neues" has been released. The film has some excellent depictions of trench warfare, and it shows the enthusiasm with which German youth marched off to war and the harsh reality they soon faced.   Indeed, Erich Maria Remarque the author was himself a German front line soldier though his motives for writing it were antiwar.

Another book that we highly recommend on the World War One German military experience at the tactical level is "Storm of Steel" "In Stahlgewittern" by Ernst Jünger.  He served as an enlisted man and then became a German infantry officer in World War One.  Jünger describes the trench warfare experience yet does not turn antiwar.  Jünger was wounded 14 times in the war and awarded the Pour le Merite as a company-grade infantry officer which was highly unusual. 

Heathenry and the Distinction Between Killing and Murder

Norse and Germanic heathen traditions developed a moral code that distinguishes sharply between killing in war and murder. Killing on the battlefield or in a raid was not considered sinful but honorable, even valorous. Murder—defined as treachery, unlawful killing, secret killing, or bloodshed outside the norms of feud and warfare—was condemned, often punished with outlawry or blood compensation. Honor, rather than abstract sin, was the moral axis: a warrior’s reputation was built on courage, loyalty, and deeds, not on guilt or inherited sin.

Modern heathenry, however, is not monolithic. Some contemporary groups essentially rebrand Christianity under Norse symbols, retaining Christian moral codes, sin-language, and prohibitions. In such settings, the same contradictions that afflict Christian veterans may persist. But in the Odin’s Warrior Tribe understanding of heathenry—rooted in the warrior tradition of our ancestors—the original code is embraced: the line between killing and murder is clear. Killing in war and in combat, when done with honor and within rightful cause, is justified and not a source of shame. Murder, treachery, or dishonor stain the warrior’s reputation.

This distinction has practical consequences. For veterans who internalize a heathen moral code, battlefield actions can be reconciled with their spiritual values. Rituals such as blot (sacrifice), sumbl (oath-sharing), or memorial feasts provide avenues of moral repair, embedding deeds into community memory rather than isolating them as shameful secrets. In this context, heathenry functions not as a borrowed label but as a living code of honor that enables warriors to carry their experiences without the crippling burden of moral injury.

Implications: Spiritual Codes and Veteran Suicide

The evidence suggests two interlocking truths. First, spirituality and religious affiliation are broadly protective against suicide, through mechanisms of community, ritual, and meaning. Second, when a spiritual code is violated—particularly a rigid one—its internalization may heighten shame and thus suicide risk.

For veterans raised in Christian traditions, the act of killing in war may constitute such a violation, generate moral injury and drive despair. For those who embrace heathen moral frameworks—particularly in their warrior form—killing in combat is not transgression but duty fulfilled. Thus, heathenry holds promise not merely as an alternative spirituality but as a means of moral repair: it offers categories in which the warrior’s deeds can be honored, integrated, and ritualized, reducing the psychic burden that otherwise fuels suicide risk. This gets to the core of our Tribal brotherhood on the one hand, and our secular efforts with Veterans to keep them engaged and active with activities and then camaraderie. 

Future research should directly investigate veteran suicide rates across faith traditions and examine how moral injury manifests differently in Christian, secular, and heathen populations. Comparative ethnography of veteran reintegration rituals may illuminate how communities facilitate or frustrate moral repair. Until then, we can conclude that spiritual frameworks do not simply buffer suicide risk in general—they shape how veterans interpret their own deeds, and whether those deeds can be borne without despair.

All photos by the Chieftain: a veteran of five conflicts,

References (Selected)

Ajdacic-Gross, V. et al. (2014). “Religion and Suicide: Ramadan effect.” arXiv:1401.3525.

Dervic, K. et al. (2004). “Religious Affiliation and Suicide Attempt.” Am J Psychiatry, 161(12):2303–2308.

Epstein, H. C. (2025). Why Live: How Suicide Becomes an Epidemic. Columbia Global Reports.

Kopacz, M. et al. (2016). “Moral Injury and Suicide Risk in Veterans.” Spirituality in Clinical Practice.

Lawrence, R. E. et al. (2016). “Religion and Suicide Risk: A Systematic Review.” Arch Suicide Res, 20(1):1–21.

Litz, B. et al. (2009). “Moral Injury and Moral Repair in War Veterans.” Clinical Psychology Review, 29(8):695–706.

O’Reilly, D. et al. (2015). “Religion and the Risk of Suicide: Longitudinal study of 1 million people.” British Journal of Psychiatry, 206(6):466–470.

Rasic, D. et al. (2011). “Religion, Religious Affiliation, and Risk of Attempted Suicide.” Psychological Medicine, 41(7):1481–1490.

Shay, J. (1994). Achilles in Vietnam: Combat Trauma and the Undoing of Character. New York: Scribner.

Younger, S. (2016). Tribe: On Homecoming and Belonging. New York: Twelve.