His work has fundamentally changed clinical practice. It is now common for trauma therapists to ask, "What do you notice in your body right now?" alongside "What are you thinking?" Somatic experiencing, sensorimotor psychotherapy, and other body-focused modalities have moved from the fringe to the mainstream.
Existing treatments—chiefly, talking about the war or prescribing sedatives—often made things worse. Some veterans became more agitated, more haunted. This clinical impasse drove van der Kolk to ask a question that would define his career: If talking doesn't work, where is the trauma actually stored? Van der Kolk’s genius lay in synthesizing findings from disparate fields: neuroscience, attachment theory, and developmental psychology. He became a pioneer in using brain imaging (like PET and fMRI scans) to study PTSD. His research produced a startling picture.
This fall from grace complicated van der Kolk’s legacy. It served as a stark reminder of the gap between brilliant theoretical insight and flawless personal conduct. For some, it diminished his authority. For others, it simply made him human—a flawed vessel for a revolutionary message. Despite—or perhaps because of—the controversies, van der Kolk’s influence is undeniable. He did not invent the idea of mind-body connection; that wisdom has ancient roots. But he operationalized it for a modern, secular, scientific audience. He gave a name to a feeling that millions of people had but couldn't articulate: Why can’t I just get over this? His answer was liberating: because it’s not just in your head.
The trauma world was split. Many colleagues and former patients defended him passionately, arguing that his intensity was part of his genius and that the accusations were a pretext for a long-simmering institutional rebellion against his dominance. Others saw the dismissal as a necessary reckoning, arguing that a man who preached the importance of safety and relational attunement was failing to provide it to his own staff.
Bessel van der Kolk’s story is that of a brilliant, stubborn, and flawed revolutionary. He spent decades fighting a rearguard action against a psychiatric establishment that he felt was reducing human suffering to a chemical imbalance. In doing so, he helped catalyze a broader cultural shift—one that acknowledges that we are not brains in vats, but embodied beings whose histories are written not just in memory, but in muscle, breath, and bone. The body, he taught us, does indeed keep the score. And only by learning to listen to that somatic score can we begin to compose a new future.
Van der Kolk’s name is now synonymous with a paradigm shift. His 2014 magnum opus, The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma , spent over 150 weeks on the New York Times bestseller list, a nearly unprecedented feat for a dense, academic work on psychiatry. It became a touchstone for therapists, social workers, veterans, survivors of abuse, and anyone who has ever felt that their past was holding their present hostage. But to understand the phenomenon of van der Kolk, one must understand the journey that led him to write that book—a journey marked by brilliant insight, bitter institutional battles, and a willingness to embrace the unorthodox. Born in 1948 in postwar Amsterdam, van der Kolk grew up in a country still scarred by Nazi occupation. While he did not experience the Holocaust directly, the pervasive atmosphere of loss and resilience in Dutch society may have seeded his early fascination with how human beings endure and are shaped by catastrophe. He studied medicine and psychiatry in Chicago and then at Harvard, where he began his long affiliation with the Boston Veterans Administration (VA) hospital.
More controversially, van der Kolk focused on the , a region that monitors the body’s internal state (interoception). He argued that trauma fundamentally alters the relationship between the mind and the body. Survivors often feel disembodied, numb, or disconnected from their physical sensations. They might be unable to feel comfort, or they might experience ordinary touch as a threat.