When tragedy strikes, the visible damage—the rubble, the chaos, the haunting silence of loss—is often captured first. But there is another layer of devastation, one that seeps quietly into the minds and hearts of survivors. In the aftermath of the glacier collapse in Blatten, Valais, while search and rescue crews combed through debris, another kind of team began its equally vital work: emergency psychologists.
These professionals don’t arrive with sirens or stretchers. They arrive with presence. Their work isn’t measured in lives pulled from wreckage, but in quiet conversations, comforting words, and the slow, careful work of emotional stabilization. And yet, in a crisis like the one in the Lötschental valley, their contribution is indispensable. Led by Seraphina Zurbriggen, President of the Upper Valais Psychological Emergency Aid Association, this care team of two to three psychologists has been quietly working since the disaster struck. Their role is subtle yet crucial: recognizing trauma, offering guidance, and providing essential information to those trying to make sense of the incomprehensible.
“Recognition of the stress, guidance and information are the most important things for those affected in this acute phase,” Zurbriggen said. Her team is part of a broader emergency infrastructure that includes the Cantonal Valais Rescue Organization (KWRO), a network of over 3,000 trained responders who stand ready to help at a moment’s notice. Among them are not just emergency psychologists, but also dog handlers, rescue divers, and others trained to act swiftly in the face of disaster.
What’s particularly striking about the response in Blatten is how deeply embedded this care is within the community structure. Before the glacier collapse, the village had already been evacuated due to landslide risk. Preparations were made not just for physical safety, but emotional well-being. This forethought reflects a growing recognition across societies: disasters are as much psychological events as they are physical ones.
Zurbriggen emphasized the importance of knowing that healing takes time. “From an emergency psychology perspective, we assume that healthy people have the ability to cope with this. We therefore act with the attitude: as much as necessary, as little as possible.” This philosophy speaks volumes about the respect emergency psychologists have for the human spirit’s capacity to endure, even in the face of overwhelming loss.
Still, support is readily available for those who need it. In Valais, anyone can reach help via the 144 emergency line—a small yet powerful reminder that even in isolation, no one needs to feel alone. The story unfolding in Blatten is more than a local tragedy. It is a portrait of resilience, not just of individuals, but of systems that prioritize mental health as part of emergency response. In an age when climate disasters and other crises are increasing in frequency, the role of emergency psychology is evolving from an afterthought to a core component of humanitarian aid.
It’s also a quiet rebuke to a world that often overlooks mental health until it’s too late. What happened in Blatten could happen anywhere. And when it does, the question isn’t just whether we can clear the debris—but whether we can support the people beneath it. While headlines often focus on political leaders or dramatic rescues, stories like this remind us that sometimes the most important work happens in the quiet. In the soft-spoken reassurance of an emergency psychologist. In the preparation meetings that take place before disaster strikes. In the communities that understand that survival is more than a heartbeat—it’s the will to carry on.
In Blatten, after the ice gave way, it wasn’t just buildings that were shaken. It was lives. Thanks to people like Seraphina Zurbriggen and her team, those lives are being slowly, compassionately pieced back together. The Social Digest honors these unseen first responders—because in every disaster, they help preserve the most fragile thing of all: hope.
