Divorce's Hidden Toll on Children: A Collective Wound

Society's Invisible Atomic Bomb: How Divorce Split the Soul of a Generation and Why Divorce Is Worse Than Death – The Repressed Trauma of an Entire Generation. Parental divorce is not a private event, but a psychological rupture that extends far beyond the family. What begins as a personal decision reverberates as a collective emotional shock. Like an invisible atomic bomb, it has split and poisoned the foundation of an entire generation – and to this day, the children of divorce struggle to distinguish between love and hurt, morality and arbitrariness.

Shattered Trust and the Collective Splitting of the Soul

The generation that has grown up in broken families since the 1970s carries a silent trauma within them – one that is rarely named because it has become commonplace. Divorce has been normalized, sold as progress, as a "liberation" from old constraints. But the true cost of this freedom is only now becoming apparent: in a collective loss of trust, a sense of insecurity, and a creeping uprooting that is deeply ingrained in our culture.

The Loss of the Father – A Collective Wound

Almost all children of this era grew up with their mothers. The father disappeared – often against his will – from their daily lives. With him vanished the symbol of order, boundaries, and spiritual guidance. In symbolic language, the father represents the principle of Logos – meaning, spirit, structure, and moral leadership. When this principle is suppressed, the child loses its connection to the spiritual order of the world.

Since fathers usually had to leave the family automatically after a divorce, a fatal misconception arose in the child's perception: The father was gone – therefore, he must be the guilty one, the bad guy. He abandoned the family! The child drew the moral conclusion from what was visible.

But in reality, in most cases, it is the mother who files for divorce and actively brings about the separation. She abandons the family spiritually and destroys the family unit, but usually takes the children with her physically.

What the child is shown and modeled for them doesn't correspond to their emotional and moral reality. They experience a contradiction between what they feel and what they observe. The child loves their father but sees him disappearing—and is torn apart internally between loyalty and guilt.

This confusion leaves deep scars: The child loses trust in their own feelings. They learn that feeling and truth don't align. And those who no longer trust their feelings lose faith—not only in people, but also in meaning, justice, and God.

This creates a spiritual uprooting that lasts a lifetime. The loss of the father thus becomes not only a familial but also a spiritual rupture.

The result is generations of people who possess high sensitivity and empathy but lack inner direction. Without a father figure, there is no axis around which the soul can revolve. Humans become dependent on emotional bonds, seeking support in relationships, institutions, or ideologies—yet they lose faith in the existence of anything lasting.

Parents as the First Moral Authority

Parents are the first and most formative moral authority in a child's life. They embody truth, guidance, and the belief that life has meaning. When this authority breaks down or shirks its responsibility, the child loses not only security but also the foundation upon which to build their conscience.

Therefore, children must be clearly shown that divorce is not a "good" or neutral path, but a rupture that should be avoided and healed wherever possible. Children have a right to know that their parents are doing everything they can to preserve the family and keep their world together.

Parents must show their children that they are wanted and loved—regardless of conflicts, mistakes, or disappointments. They must witness their parents not giving up, but fighting for what is sacred: the family itself.

True love is not shown in withdrawal, but in perseverance, reconciliation, and rebuilding. A child who sees their father fighting for the family learns trust, courage, and moral strength. A child who, on the other hand, witnesses adults fleeing, learns resignation.

Parents, therefore, bear responsibility not only for their actions, but also for the image of love they leave their children. For this image shapes a person's soul—and thus the morality of the next generation.

Mental suffering is worse than physical suffering

One must distinguish between physical and mental suffering, between physical pain—the suffering of the body—and mental suffering, which undermines meaning and values.

This applies to the level of the soul. When a child experiences the shattering of what was sacred—family, parental love, trust in the permanence of life—not only is the heart wounded, but the spirit is also scarred.

Physical pain fades, but spiritual suffering can become deeply ingrained in the very fabric of the personality. It alters thinking, feeling, and moral compass.

Those who experience the breakdown of love and the blurring of truth in their childhood lose their inner compass. They begin to function in relationships, but no longer truly live.

This spiritual suffering manifests as chronic doubt, cynicism, and an inability to maintain lasting relationships or respect authority. The individual remains trapped in an invisible state of survival—outwardly strong, inwardly exhausted. The soul survives, but the spirit withers.

Divorce is worse than death

For the soul, divorce is worse than death. Death is a catastrophe—but one that comes from the outside, a fate that a person must endure; it is not moral.

Divorce, on the other hand, is a personal decision and therefore moral: One parent actively chooses to leave the family, thereby destroying the inner place and the family structure upon which the child has anchored their world.

The difference lies in the dimension of voluntariness. We humans can cope remarkably well with natural disasters, illness, or death because we allow meaning to be found in suffering. But divorce shakes the very foundations of our trust in the moral order. For the child, it means: Someone I love has decided to leave us and hurt us.

Because children are highly self-centered in their perception, they unconsciously interpret this decision as a consequence of their own failure. They take on the guilt in order to hold their inner world together. Thus, they bear a responsibility they should never have to bear—and this guilt often becomes a quiet, lifelong burden.

A death can be processed. A divorce, on the other hand, leaves an open wound because it shatters trust in love itself. It is not a natural catastrophe, but a catastrophe of will—and therefore strikes the soul infinitely deeper.

Personality and Character—A Vital Distinction—And Why the Question of Guilt Matters

It is particularly difficult for children to distinguish between personality and character. Children intuitively love the person—father or mother—as part of their own identity. This personality is natural and not moral, and it cannot be changed. One is who one is. But a person's character is not innate, but rather the result of their decisions and how they deal with those decisions, whether well or poorly; it is therefore moral.

Character is lived behavior, the sum of actions chosen consciously or unconsciously. A person can therefore be loved without their behavior being right. This distinction is almost impossible for children because, for them, love is indivisible.

This creates a dangerous dynamic: Out of fear of jeopardizing the "false peace," many parents avoid setting clear boundaries. They don't want to put the child in a loyalty conflict—and so they let destructive behavior go unaddressed. But children need guidance precisely at this time. Otherwise, they are shown the wrong things. They are allowed to love both their parents, but they must learn that immoral, destructive behavior is never acceptable.

Those who fail to draw this line blur the distinction between good and evil, between responsibility and arbitrariness, for the child. As a result, the child loses its moral compass—and with it, the ability to build healthy relationships.

If this cycle is not broken, the victim as a child inevitably becomes the perpetrator as an adult.

What is not healed is repeated—often under new guises, but with the same inner dynamic. Thus, the invisible legacy of inner conflict continues—from generation to generation.

Children who grow up in this confusion unconsciously learn to mistake hurt for love. They later believe that pain is a sign of closeness—and thus repeat the false pattern they once suffered. They mistake disrespect for passion, control for protection, and conformity for love. Thus, they do the wrong thing, convinced it is the right thing to do—driven by the unconscious desire to finally heal old wounds.

But this dynamic doesn't end with the individual. When entire generations don't heal their inner conflicts but instead repress them, these same patterns spread to the collective. Personal conflicts of loyalty become societal divisions, and inner insecurity gives rise to ideologies that mistake control for morality.

What happens on a small scale—the shifting of blame, the distortion of good and evil, the projection of one's own shadows—is repeated on a large scale: Just as an unresolved family conflict releases destructive energy, so too can a nation act out of unconscious fear.

Emotional Confusion of Atomic Bomb and Nuclear Power Plant—A Factual Misconception

The generation that grew up during the Cold War, that is, in fear of the atomic bomb, later shut down nuclear power plants—not for rational, but for emotional reasons. In the collective psyche, the atomic bomb and the nuclear power plant were unconsciously confused. For nuclear energy itself is neither good nor evil, but neutral. The symbol of destruction and the symbol of energy became one. This reveals how deeply personal traumas and collective decisions are intertwined.

The underlying psychological laws are the same: Those who do not recognize evil on a small scale will be at its mercy on a large scale. Those who do not integrate their own shadows ultimately destroy the world to save themselves. Personal life therefore always has collective significance – it can drive societies to ruin or lead to healing.

Religion as a Healing Framework

Especially in this deep emotional rift, only religion can offer children a saving orientation. It helps them interpret events not only personally, but also spiritually and, above all, symbolically. For evil – that is, the attack on family, love, unity, and trust – can be understood as the expression of a dark, transpersonal power.

When children learn that evil does not reside in a single person, but uses people as tools to destroy love, then they can continue to love their parents without condoning the injustice. They understand that the real enemy is not the father or mother, but the destructive force that has come between them.

This interpretation relieves the child's soul. It helps them let go of false self-responsibility and self-blame. The child no longer has to believe that they themselves are the cause of the rift. It can grieve without self-judgment – and that is invaluable for mental and spiritual well-being.

Religion gives meaning to suffering. It opens a space where forgiveness is possible – not as a trivialization, but as a spiritual path to healing.

The Loss of Collective Symbols

In the past, children naturally grew up within the framework of the Christian religion. Even if their biological parents were weak or overwhelmed, the community provided a spiritual order that offered support. There was always a symbolic father – God in heaven – and a symbolic mother – Mary, the intercessor and comforter.

Teachers, pastors, and other figures of authority also unconsciously embodied father figures and authority figures that provided inner support for the child. They reminded them that a moral order governs humanity, one that is not dependent on whims, conflict, or arbitrariness. Thus, the soul had a fixed point – a spiritual framework that provided orientation, even when personal life was fragile.

Since the 1970s, however, this collective symbolism has largely disappeared. With the retreat of religion from public life, society lost its archetypal parental figures. The Father in Heaven and the Mother Mary vanished from our consciousness—and with them, the spiritual balance of authority and security.

For today's child's psyche, this means that if biological parents break down, no higher support remains. Everything depends on just two people—mother and father.

If they are absent, the child's entire emotional world collapses. This is also too great a burden for the parents.

What was once sustained by religion must now be borne by the individual alone—a task that hardly anyone is capable of handling. Thus, the loss of religious symbols intensifies the isolation, the feeling of being overwhelmed, and the profound sense of abandonment that accompanies so many modern children and adults.

The Irresponsible Spirit of the Age

Today, an irresponsible spirit of the age prevails. Many parents say with a clear conscience: "My children should decide for themselves later whether they believe in something or not." What sounds tolerant and open at first glance is, in reality, an expression of indifference—or of fear of taking responsibility.

This argument is often used to justify no longer teaching children religion. But religion is not merely faith in the narrow sense; it is a moral foundation that shapes orientation, meaning, and conscience. Without this foundation, children grow up in a moral vacuum, learning that everything is indifferent and everything is relative.

The same applies to upbringing: Upbringing is always moral—it shapes values, boundaries, and sense of justice.

Values and standards. Those who abandon upbringing or reduce it to mere accompaniment abandon their children to the whims of the times.

Children need a foundation before they can make free decisions. Only those who have received something inner—a sense of direction, a conscience, a purpose—can later distinguish between good and evil, truth and deception. Only when one has roots can one truly be free.

Morality and religion are not limitations on freedom, but rather its prerequisites. Parents have a duty to give their children this foundation—not as coercion, but as a gift that sustains them through life.

The trivialization of divorce

In modern society, divorce is portrayed as a private act, an emotional decision made by two adults. But the child is never merely an "observer." It becomes the bearer of the division. When the father loses contact and the mother unconsciously transmits her pain, the child grows up in a field of conflicting loyalties and guilt.

This normalization is itself a symptom of collective repression: We don't want to see the pain and the responsibility, so we call it "freedom." In doing so, we commit a moral self-deception that prevents any healing.

The Silver Bullet Dynamic – Abuse in the Name of Protection

In many separations, a particularly destructive dynamic emerges: One parent uses moral or emotional manipulation to eliminate the other – usually under the guise of protecting the child. This "silver bullet" tactic leads to the child's psychological split. The child learns that love is biased and truth is dangerous.

Jung would have recognized this as a form of projection: the shadow of a wounded ego that seeks justice but, in reality, exacts revenge. The child becomes the instrument of unresolved complexes – and carries the psychological burden of both parents within them.

Healing Requires Security and Morality

The trauma of divorce cannot be healed in an environment that reproduces insecurity. As long as a person remains in survival mode, no psychological integration can occur. Only when security—both internal and external—arises can the soul begin to create order.

But security is not merely a psychological state. It is moral. Only in an environment where truth, responsibility, and justice prevail can trust grow again. Without objective morality, everything remains subjective, and subjective rules are unstable. Then every relationship becomes a power game.

Guilt and Moral Order

Modern psychology avoids the question of guilt. Yet consciously confronting guilt is a key to healing. Guilt is not just a moral judgment, but an awareness—the acknowledgment that one is part of the pain.

A society that denies guilt also denies responsibility. It remains childlike, incapable of integrating its own shadow. Only through the recognition of guilt can morality re-emerge as an inner principle. Then healing becomes possible not only individually, but collectively.

The Loss of Responsibility in the Contemporary Spirit of Women

Unfortunately, it is often the case today that women, in particular, shirk their moral responsibility due to the prevailing spirit of the age. Society instills in them the belief that their own well-being, happiness, and self-realization are more important than the well-being of their children or the stability of their family. This is celebrated as progress—but in reality, it is a subtle form of selfishness that uproots entire generations.

Modern women are encouraged to liberate themselves, even if this means destroying their families. They are expected to "go their own way," regardless of the emotional consequences. Thus, they often unconsciously sacrifice their children and husbands for short-term happiness. But this happiness is usually fleeting because it is based on the violation of a moral order.

Men, on the other hand—as was once taken for granted—often sacrifice their personal happiness to preserve the family. They stay, bear the burden, work, and endure—so that the whole family can continue. This is not weakness, but moral strength. For true responsibility means subordinating one's own interests to the common good.

In a time that places individual freedom above all else, this principle is hardly understood anymore. Yet the soul of a child recognizes what is true: it senses who bears the burden and who flees, who takes responsibility and who relinquishes it. And this unspoken impression shapes it for life.

Children as a living shield

In many cases, the woman unconsciously exploits the dilemma of the children's loyalty conflict to evade her own responsibility and the question of guilt. By emotionally binding the children to herself, she shifts the moral weight of the separation away from herself.

and towards a seemingly fateful event. The child thus becomes a silent witness to a reversal: the mother appears as the victim, the father as the perpetrator, and the truth is emotionally disarmed.

The children become living shields. They serve—mostly unconsciously—to protect the mother from confronting her own guilt. The child senses this dynamic and assumes responsibility that is not its own. It becomes a psychological buffer between truth and self-deception.

This dynamic preserves the mother's fragile self-image in the short term, but destroys the child's trust in justice in the long term. For the child intuitively senses that something is wrong—but it cannot name it without risking the mother's love. Thus, it learns to deny its own perception in order to remain loved. This is the deepest form of psychological confusion: when the heart feels what the mind cannot express.

The Loss of Roles and Psychological Order

Without a clear understanding of roles, we don't know where we belong. A role provides not only a function, but also direction, responsibility, and identity. A son knows what it means to be a son because he experiences his father. A father knows what it means to be a father because he has his own son. This creates an inner network of role models, bonds, and responsibilities—the foundation of all psychological order.

Divorce destroys this structure. Roles shift or fall apart entirely. The child no longer sees a father and mother in a relationship, but rather two individuals in competition. The child no longer experiences love as cooperation, but as a fault line.

You can no longer model the roles of husband and wife for a child when the family is separated. For the family is not only a social but also a symbolic construct. It shows the child how relationship, sacrifice, and responsibility are interconnected. When this image shatters, the child loses the inner map of their life.

A mother who destroys the family cannot continue her role as a mother unchanged. For motherhood means protection, cohesion, and loyalty to the whole. If the mother herself brings about the rupture, a contradiction arises that the child cannot comprehend. The child loves the mother, but she stands in opposition to what she actually embodies.

This leads to psychological disorientation

When the roles of the father and mother crumble, the child's role is also destroyed – because they are mutually dependent. The child can only recognize itself if it experiences the father as a father and the mother as a mother. If these points of reference disappear or are reversed, the child loses its inner stability. It no longer knows where it belongs – or who it is.

Mental Incest – Mental Pedophilia

When the father is absent, children often unconsciously assume the father's role. They try to bear responsibilities they cannot – out of love, fear, or a deep desire to save the family. But this is an overwhelming psychological burden. A child who replaces a father or mother loses its own childhood. It matures outwardly, but remains empty inwardly—and later bears a burden that was not its own. This reversal of roles is not strength, but a silent form of illness—a disruption of the natural order of love. It is perverse, a form of spiritual incest and spiritual pedophilia.

For the father is naturally also the mother's husband. When he is absent, the child—especially the son—perversely becomes the false husband of his own mother. He unconsciously assumes an emotional role that does not belong to him and is thereby deeply confused. This psychological reversal destroys the soul because it transforms the most natural thing—childlike love—into a kind of task that the person cannot bear emotionally because it is wrong.

Roles as Relaxation

If the mother can no longer be a wife, she can no longer recover. For only those who can distinguish between the individual roles can recover from them inwardly. A woman can be a better mother because she is also a wife—and vice versa. Only those who know their role can relinquish it and find inner peace.

If a mother can embody the role of a wife, she is a good mother. Only then can she give her children a sense of protection, security, and belonging. If she doesn't have a biological husband, she needs a symbolic one—an inner or spiritual point of reference that represents this order.

The same applies to the man:

He, too, can only be a true father if he is also a husband—whether biologically or symbolically. For the roles of father and husband are inextricably linked, like order and love, like mind and heart.

We are the children of God, the Father!

This divine relationship reminds us that every human role—father, mother, son, or daughter—originates from a higher order. Only in this relationship with God do we find inner peace and our true identity.

This unresolved role confusion runs like an invisible rift through life. Those who don't know their role in their family won't know their role in life later on. And those who don't know their role lose the meaning of their actions.

Roles are not words, but actions

They are not asserted, but lived. A father is a father when he acts like a father; a mother is a mother when she loves, protects, and supports; a child is a child when he is allowed to trust. Only through actions can one recognize the truth of a role—and where the action ends, the role also ends.

Often, people call themselves father or mother without actually doing so. They bear the title, but not the responsibility. The role thus becomes an empty form, a mask without substance.

It is not the name, but the action that gives a role its truth. Only those who act as they are called live in accordance with the divine order that grounds every role.

Do role models restrict us?

In the modern zeitgeist, it is often argued that these role models restrict us. But this only shows that we have become infantile—incapable of bearing responsibility and understanding our place in the bigger picture. Roles do not restrict; they support. They provide stability, direction, and meaning—precisely what has been lost today.

For human beings are always in relation to something higher. Only in relationship do we recognize ourselves—first in the family, ultimately in God, our Father in Heaven. That is why we can be sons—in the profound Catholic sense, in which women are also understood as sons of God: as children who emerge from the divine order and find their true identity within it.

The Path to Wholeness

The restoration of the father principle is necessary to regain the spiritual equilibrium of society. This signifies a patriarchal return, and thus the return of spiritual order—of meaning, truth, and responsibility.

Healing occurs when we once again recognizes both: the feminine as receptivity and the masculine as form and boundaries. Only when these opposites are reconciled can the child within us—the wounded generation—finally find peace.