It was the 1970s and 80s, and the United States was still reeling from the Vietnam War. The VA system was flooded with young men suffering from what was then poorly understood. Officially, "Post-Vietnam Syndrome" was not yet the well-defined diagnosis of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), which would only appear in the DSM-III in 1980. Van der Kolk was on the front lines. He saw veterans who would explode in rage at a loud noise, who numbed themselves with alcohol and heroin, who were trapped in a perpetual present where the jungle was always just around the corner.

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.

This led to his most famous, and most radical, formulation: Traumatic memories are not stored as linear stories with a beginning, middle, and end. Instead, they are stored as visceral sensations, as muscle tension, as a churning gut, as a racing heart, as a frozen posture. A sexual abuse survivor might feel fine intellectually while talking about the event, but her body will react to a man’s aftershave with a surge of cortisol and a feeling of suffocation. The body, van der Kolk argued, remembers what the mind has tried to forget. The Therapeutic Heresies: Beyond the Couch and the Pill If the body keeps the score, then the talking cure is insufficient. This conclusion made van der Kolk a heretic in the world of traditional psychoanalysis and, later, in the world of evidence-based cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT). He didn’t reject these modalities, but he argued they needed to be supplemented by bottom-up treatments that directly address the body’s learned responses.

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.

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.