ENLISTING TO BELONG, DYING TO FEEL NOTHING - Elhem Beddouda - ETHICA SOCIETAS-Rivista di scienze umane e sociali

From the pursuit of justice to the need for recognition: emptiness, alienation, and care within police forces

Abstract: The article offers a reflection on the phenomenon of suicides among uniformed personnel, interpreting it not as a sudden or “unexplained” event, but as the outcome of an identity and relational process that may begin as early as the moment of enlistment. Entering the Armed Forces is read as a response to a deep need for belonging, self-realisation, and meaning, within a social context perceived as fragmented and lacking stable reference points. However, when personal identity is progressively absorbed by institutional identity, the uniform can shift from support to armour, ultimately producing alienation, emotional silence, and unrecognised vulnerability. The text explores the relationship between discipline, fragility, and the construction of the self, questioning the role of initial selection processes, psychological support, and organisational culture in allowing—or denying—space for one’s humanity. In conclusion, it proposes a shift in perspective: from prevention understood as control, to care understood as presence, listening, and affective responsibility.

Keywords: #SuicidesInUniform #ArmedForces #MentalHealth #Belonging #Identity #Alienation #Vulnerability #Discipline #PsychologicalSupport #Trauma #EmotionalArmor #Humanity #Care #Listening #AffectiveResponsibility #SenseOfJustice #Recognition #Prevention #OrganizationalWellbeing #ElhemBeddouda #ethicasocietas #ethicasocietasjournal #scientificjournal #humanities #socialsciences #ethicasocietasupli

Elhem Beddouda, Professional educator with a degree in Education Sciences and Training Processes from the University of Parma, with a thesis entitled “Islam and the Educational Function: Perspectives on Religious Assistance in Prison”. I am currently enrolled in the degree programme “Global Studies for Sustainable Local and International Development and Cooperation” at the same university.

versione italiana

Some of those who choose to enlist in the Armed Forces are often driven by a deep need for self-realisation and a sense of belonging. Perhaps it is an attempt to find a place where justice can be embodied—made concrete—in a world that often feels chaotic, unfair, and fragmented. The uniform then becomes not only a role, but an answer: an identity container capable of providing direction, value, and recognition.

Personal identity dissolving into collective identity

In this process, however, personal identity may slowly be sacrificed in favour of collective identity. Values, principles, and responsibilities become shared and internalised, until they merge with the group and its mission.

It is a powerful transition, but also a delicate one: what initially “supports” can, over time, turn into a form of alienation, in which a person exists primarily through the function they perform. At this point, an uncomfortable question arises: how far is this path really from that of those who seek belonging and answers in contexts of deviance?

On the surface, these are opposite worlds, yet at their core the need is similar. The symbols change, the narratives change, but the void to be filled is often the same. The difference lies in the forces that drive them: on one side, a sense of justice, a desire to protect, a deep goodness; on the other, anger, powerlessness, wounds searching for an outlet.

The former appear strong, disciplined, guided by ideals; the latter more fragile, more easily influenced, readily exploited by those pursuing illicit aims. And yet both, in the long run, risk being crushed by an identity that represents them only in part.

Suicide among the uniformed: looking beyond the breakdown to its origins

This is where reflecting on suicides in the Armed Forces becomes inevitable. To understand these acts—often described as happening “for no reason”—it is not enough to look at the moment of collapse. We must go back to the original “why” behind enlistment.

What was the real need? What was being sought in that noble, structured institution—yet one that is profoundly demanding? And do the initial selection processes truly detect not only psychological stability, but also the identity fragility that can hide behind motivations that appear healthy?

One must also ask whether psychological support is present from the very beginning, and whether it genuinely accompanies the individual throughout their training and working life.

Because when identity and belonging have not been sufficiently built upstream—within the family, primary relationships, and society—the risk is that the individual will seek externally what they were unable to root within themselves. In such cases, belonging becomes a constant struggle, or a form of silent retaliation.

When the armour no longer holds

But the fighter, sooner or later, grows tired. And when they can no longer fight outwardly, they often end up turning violence inward, self-sabotaging.

Those driven by revenge may instead come to harm others, pulling them into a pain they cannot contain. In both cases, the knot is the same: an armour that worked for a time, but never truly healed the wound.

Those who appear stronger learn discipline, control, perseverance. Yet in doing so, they often forget they are human. They forget limits, vulnerability, the need to feel and to be seen beyond the role. They forget they can be weak. The collapse, then, is not only the return of what they had fled from, but also the weight of responsibilities assumed, decisions made, lives touched.

It is in that moment that it becomes clear how no identity built to endure can replace, in the long term, a deep work of reconciliation with oneself.

The decisive question: how much humanity is allowed within the system?

Perhaps the real question is not only why some take their own lives, but how much space these systems leave for fragility, for the search for meaning, for the possibility of remaining human.

In good and bad times, in strength and above all in weakness. Because without that space, even the highest sense of justice risks becoming an unbearable burden.

Prevention is becoming increasingly difficult—if not outright impossible—and at this point we must shift our gaze toward care. A care that is not only technical, procedural, institutional. For me, true care is love. Because it is the same force that, when present, prevents. And when it arrives late, it still heals.

Love as a force that stays

Love has no limits of time or space. It does not demand the right moment, it does not wait until the person is ready. It works always.

It is perhaps the only thing that, even when it seems forced, bears fruit. Even when on the other side there is resistance, closure, distrust. Because love does not enter by breaking down doors, but by staying. Returning. Persisting with gentleness.

In Tunisia, it is said that perseverance drills through (or breaks) marble. A perseverance made of firmness, endurance, silent resilience. And with these people, this is exactly what is needed: to stay, to commit, to give love. So much love. Because it is often the very thing they never received—or the thing they ran from at the beginning of their journey.

Because to love requires courage. To love means being vulnerable and looking inward.

Conclusion: returning to the human

Perhaps, then, care is not about adding new tools, but about recovering what is both simplest and most difficult: a gaze that truly sees, a presence that does not judge, a love that does not need to be earned. Because it is there, in that love, that a possibility of returning to the human can still exist.