The genetics of autism are real, but there are also environmental

Hear, O seekers of wisdom and compassion, the words of Elizabeth Emken, who declared: “The genetics of autism are real, but there are also environmental triggers.” In this statement lies a truth that is both scientific and deeply human: that our lives are woven from the threads of inheritance and the loom of environment, each strand shaping the final tapestry. She speaks not to divide causes, but to remind us that the mystery of life, and of autism in particular, cannot be explained by a single origin, but by the interplay of what is given and what is encountered.

The meaning of her words lies in balance. To acknowledge the genetics of autism is to recognize the role of ancestry, of DNA, of the quiet script written before birth. But to speak also of environmental triggers is to understand that genes are not fate alone—they are potentials, awakened or silenced, strengthened or weakened, by the world in which a child lives. Thus Emken reminds us that autism, like so much of human experience, cannot be reduced to one cause; it is the fruit of both heritage and circumstance.

The ancients too perceived this dual truth. The Greeks spoke of physis and nomos—nature and nurture—arguing that character is formed both by what is inborn and by the customs of society. Aristotle taught that virtue is not solely inherited but must be cultivated through habit, shaped by the environment of the city and the training of the soul. Emken’s words echo this ancient wisdom: that life is never determined by a single cause, but emerges from the meeting of inheritance and environment.

History gives us examples of this interplay. Consider the story of children born in times of famine, such as during the Dutch Hunger Winter of 1944. Decades later, scientists found that those who endured this harsh environment in the womb carried lifelong effects in health, even though their genetics remained unchanged. Their environment had spoken to their genes, triggering outcomes that could not be explained by inheritance alone. In the same way, autism’s roots are now seen not only in genetic code, but in how that code interacts with the environment—a reminder of life’s profound interconnectedness.

Emken’s words also carry an emotional weight, for they are born not from abstract science but from the struggle of families. To acknowledge both genetics and environmental triggers is to broaden the scope of understanding, and thus the scope of care. It means that parents are not to blame, but neither are they powerless. It means that society must invest not only in research on genes but also in creating environments—educational, medical, and cultural—that nurture and protect children with autism, helping them to flourish.

The lesson here is clear: when we encounter complexity in life, we must resist the temptation to seek simple answers. To ask whether autism is “genetic” or “environmental” is to miss the truth that it is both, woven together in ways we may not yet fully understand. Wisdom lies not in reduction but in reverence for the complexity of life, and in the compassion that comes from seeing the whole.

Therefore, O listener, take this teaching into your heart: when you face mysteries—whether of health, of justice, or of destiny—do not rush to assign blame or to demand a single cause. Look instead at the whole picture, and act with patience, humility, and love. If you are a parent, create environments of safety, support, and opportunity. If you are a neighbor, offer compassion rather than judgment. If you are a leader, support both scientific research and social care, for both are needed to address the fullness of human challenges.

And so let Emken’s words echo as both truth and guide: “The genetics of autism are real, but there are also environmental triggers.” In them lies the wisdom that life is always more complex than we first imagine, and that by embracing both science and compassion, both inheritance and environment, we may walk more wisely and act more justly in the service of one another.