Sometimes a person carries a fear, a tension, or a way of relating that never quite seems to belong to their own biography. A dread with no obvious cause. A difficulty with closeness that predates any relationship. A quiet sense of guilt, or of not-belonging. One question comes up again and again in my practice: could some of this reach back further than my own life — to what my parents, or their parents, lived through? Two articles I recently read in Der Spiegel approach this from very different angles: one from the laboratory, one from the living rooms of families marked by war and displacement. Together they sketch a picture worth taking seriously — and worth handling carefully.
A mouse, a scent, and a surprising result
In a much-discussed experiment, neuroscientists Brian Dias and Kerry Ressler at Emory University trained mice to fear a specific smell — a cherry-blossom-like scent — by pairing it with a mild electric shock. Nothing unusual so far. What was striking came later: the offspring of these mice, and even the generation after that, reacted anxiously to the same scent, although they had never encountered it or the shock. The effect held even when the pups were conceived by IVF, which rules out that they simply learned the fear from their parents. The researchers found changes in the brain regions that process smell and — in the fathers’ sperm — an epigenetic change: reduced methylation on a gene involved in detecting that odour. The study was published in Nature Neuroscience.
Epigenetics is the layer of chemistry that sits on top of our genes. It does not rewrite the genetic code itself; it adds or removes small chemical marks — such as methyl groups — that turn genes up or down, louder or quieter. Experience, environment and stress can leave such marks. The provocative implication of the mouse study is that, at least in animals, some of these marks — and the sensitivities they carry — can be passed on to the next generation.
From mice to humans: what we can and cannot say
It is tempting to draw a straight line from that experiment to human families. Here I want to be honest, because credibility matters more than a good story. Transgenerational epigenetic inheritance in humans is suggested by research, not settled by it. The most cited work comes from Rachel Yehuda and colleagues, who studied the children of Holocaust survivors and found differences in stress-hormone regulation and in the methylation of a stress-related gene. Cohorts such as the children of the Dutch “Hunger Winter” point in a similar direction. But the mechanisms are debated, human data are far harder to control, and no serious researcher claims we have proof that a specific trauma is biologically “downloaded” into a grandchild.
And here is the part that, for my work, matters most. Even if we set the biology aside entirely, trauma clearly travels between generations — through relationship. A parent who was frightened, silenced or absent shapes a child. Family secrets that are never spoken still organise a family’s emotional life; as the Der Spiegel piece on ancestral trauma describes so vividly, what is not talked about often exerts the strongest pull. Atmosphere, attachment, unspoken loyalty — these pass down reliably, with or without a molecular explanation.
Why the “how” matters less than it seems
Whether a pattern reaches you through biology or through relationship, the lived experience is similar: something runs quietly in the background that does not feel fully like your own choice. You may notice it as anxiety without a source, as trouble trusting closeness, or as a loyalty to suffering you cannot quite explain. Debating the exact channel of transmission can even become a way of avoiding the more useful question — what do I do with it now?
Where systemic and family constellation work comes in
This is precisely the terrain of systemic work — and of family constellation in particular. A constellation makes the invisible visible: the positions, loyalties and burdens that have been handed down, often without words. Seeing a pattern represented in front of you — rather than only thinking about it — can allow something to shift: an acknowledgment, a returning of what was never yours to carry, a quiet permission to belong to your own life. It does not erase history; it changes your relationship to it. In my practice this work takes place one-on-one, in an individual setting, which allows for a confidential and focused space. If you would like the broader background on how relational systems shape us, I have written more about that in Family Systems: How They Shape Us.
Inheritance is not a sentence
There is a hopeful thread running through all of this. Epigenetic marks are not carved in stone — they respond to environment, safety and relationship, and can change across a lifetime. What was shaped can be reshaped. Whatever your family history holds, it sets a starting point, not a destiny. Recognising a pattern is already the beginning of no longer being quietly lived by it.
Frequently asked questions about inherited trauma
Can trauma really be passed on to children and grandchildren?
In animals, experiments show that certain fear responses and the epigenetic marks behind them can be inherited. In humans, research strongly suggests an influence — through both biology and, very clearly, through relationship, parenting and family atmosphere — but a direct biological inheritance of a specific trauma is not proven.
Does this mean my problems are not really mine?
It can be a relief to realise that some patterns began before you. That does not remove your responsibility for how you live now — but it can lift a great deal of self-blame and open a kinder, more effective way of working with what you feel.
Is inherited trauma scientifically proven?
The animal evidence is solid; the human evidence is suggestive but still debated. It is an active field of research. In practice, systemic work does not depend on the biology being settled — it works with the patterns as they show up in your life today.
How can family constellation work help with inherited patterns?
It makes transgenerational dynamics visible and workable, allowing what belongs to an earlier generation to be acknowledged and, symbolically, handed back. Many people describe feeling lighter, freer and more able to belong to their own story.
If any of this resonates with your own family story, you are welcome to get in touch — we can look together at what a first session could offer.
Sources & further reading
- Der Spiegel: “Epigenetik: Mäuse vererben schlechte Erinnerungen”
- Der Spiegel: “Wie die Traumata unserer Vorfahren das eigene Leben prägen”
- Dias & Ressler (2014): Parental olfactory experience influences behavior and neural structure in subsequent generations, Nature Neuroscience.
- Yehuda et al. (2016) on Holocaust survivors’ offspring: FKBP5 methylation study (PubMed).
