The tail-end of 2011 and dawn of 2012 provided a surge of information about the ways that neurotechnology can be used in the public sphere and for national defense – and all of the ethical issues such possible uses stir up.  The Nuffield Council on Bioethics has released a consultation paper on novel neurotechnologies and brain intervention, and is currently soliciting responses from academic and industry experts with experience using neurotechnologies – as well as patients, and individuals that have used such devices “in recreational settings.” The report divides its summaries and questions into three categories of neurotechnology: brain computer interfaces (BCIs), neurostimulation, and neural stem cell therapy. The first section references both medical and non-medical applications for BCIs, to include neuroprosthetic interfaces and assistance for those patients with forms of locked-in syndrome. The non-medical applications for BCIs include recreational uses (for example, in the form of video games and toys), and military applications that range from performance enhancement of individual soldiers to telepresence and EEG-based communications between personnel. These military applications of novel and emerging neurotechnologies are particularly poignant given the recent release of the Royal Society’s third Brain Waves Modules, “Neuroscience, conflict and security.” The Royal Society report discusses, amongst other things, a number of aspects of neuro- and cognitive sciences that can be applied towards national security, intelligence and defense (NSID) situations, including brain imaging and stimulation, aspects of weaponization, as well as a chapter devoted to training and enhancement. This opens a proverbial can of ethico-legal and socio-political worms – not least of which are questions of 1) if neuroscience even should be used in NSID agenda (and, its corollary- “if not, then how to realistically prevent this?”); 2) how can and should neuroscience and neurotechnology be used in NSID;  3) who should address these questions, and 4) how should they be addressed – and answered (or can they, given the momentum of current research and use?)

Here’s a hint: Let’s get question number one settled: Neuroscience and neurotechnology can, are, and will be employed for NSID, by someone, somewhere, sometime, and the time for deliberation and responsible action is not at some vague point in the future, but now. Of course, what responsible action means, and what forms it assumes can vary, and there’s room on the table for discussion and debate about the merits of each. On some level, that’s the easy part, and I’m encouraged by most of the discourse to date, including a recent workshop at the National Institutes of Health, a panel at last year’s International Neuroethics Society meeting in Washington DC, and our NELSI-3 Symposium.  Nice start. But, the hard part is confronting questions 2-4 in ways that are realistic, well-balanced, cosmopolitan to the extent possible, and prudent, given both the uncertainties and contingencies of the science and technology – and insight to human history, socio-cultural, geo-political and economic trends and tendencies.

What’s needed is a frank depiction of what the science and technology can and cannot do, a deep dive into anthropological analyses of human values and social conduct, and a well-grounded and multi-partite discourse about which moral precepts can and should be used to guide and govern neuroscience and technological employment for national agenda.   It’s a work in progress, and my hope is that its pace and depth continues and deepens, before – and not in response to – an international event that is irrecoverable or unforgiveable, and thus challenges our capabilities and ingenuity.

The Nuffield report’s section on neurostimulation primarily focuses on transcrancial magnetic stimulation and deep brain stimulation.  Here too, the spectre of security – both on an individual and national level – is cast. But, the training and learning benefits of such neuroscience and technology are applicable beyond the realms of the NSID communities. For example, using some of these techniques in classrooms would enable educators to more accurately differentiate the strengths and weaknesses of students, and this information could then be used to create better learning environments. For instance, the use of electroencephalography (EEG) to group students of similar cognitive function may be more pedagogically effective and scientifically sound than simply grouping students by chronological age, or even test scores (as tends to occur in elementary education). Grouping students according to individual patterns of neuro-cognitive functions, capacities, talents, and limitations could allow for both an improved, more cognitively-tailored curriculum that is adapted to these skills and needs, and could also enable more functionally cohesive group dynamics among students (and their teachers).

This is not new. Michael Posner’s work has long spoken to assessing the brain to educate and enrich the mind, and M. Layne Kalbfleisch’s ongoing work in this area is of note as Layne specifically addresses the education/enhancement issue in much of her writing.

On a more fundamental level, an understanding of regulatory neurophysiological processes, such as bodily responses to amount and quality of light, sound, olfactory (ie- smell) and temperature cues can all be used to create “smart classrooms” that optimize conditions for student concentration, emotional stability and learning. This was a major aspect of the work being done by my colleagues Dr. Herbert Plischke, Niko Kohls, Sebastian Sauer and Astrid Schülke-Hazzam at the Generation Research Program-Bad Tӧlz of the Human Science Center of Ludwig Maximilians Universität, Munich, Germany. Moreover, this approach – of developing and using neurophysiologcally-based adaptive ambient technology (AAT) is not limited to the classroom, but can be employed in workspaces, hospitals and living spaces (for children, adults, and seniors), to make neuroergonomic and responsive environments to monitor, and facilitate function, and decrease various detriments and risks. The goal is to use what we know to sustain and optimize safe and effective spaces for human flourishing.

Sounds good, right? Still, there are objections to this type of educational and life-space enablement, with opposition ranging from parents and community members who think it undesirable to further differentiate children from each other, to those who fear neuro-stereotyping, neuro-ghettoization and/or neuro-doping in the classroom, workspace, and living (or bed) room! These fears are at least somewhat valid, insofar as we as a society do not want to excessively categorize or stigmatize if it can be avoided. However, this type of differentiation already occurs in schools in the forms of intelligence quotient and standardized testing – and these data are more arbitrary than what neuro-cognitive measures could provide. The application of some of these neuroscientific techniques in classrooms will allow for more targeted (and thus more efficient) learning by students. And as far as work- and living spaces are concerned, we need only to look around at our lights, computers, phones, microwaves, smartphones and host of other goodies to see the trend in-play.

The use of neurophysioloigcally-based AATs are novel development in an ongoing march to create and utilize the tools at our disposal to improve the quality of life and the ways that we live it.  I think that it’d be foolish not to dip into the most current knowledge that neuroscience can provide to develop neurotechnologies that are more in tune with human physiology, and ecology. But ideas of what constitutes flourishing and the good life can be slippery, and just as with national security issues, questions of personal and individual security, and ethico-legal probity need to be addressed before, and during the development and use of neurotechnologies, not just after the fact, lest situations and effects wiggle wildly out of our control. Indeed, it’s an early bird that must catch the worms from the can we’ve already opened.

For sure, neuroscience has enabled deeper and wider insight to putative substrates and mechanisms of consciousness, mind, self and personhood.  Despite (genuine recognition of) current limitations in the type and extent of such information, the knowledge gained to date has initiated moves from longstanding, dogmatic notions of self and person, to a broader construct of what constitutes the self and a person, that’s more inclusive of the possibility – if not probability – of animal “persons” and machine “selves.”  Of course, differing viewpoints exist, not only within the field of brain-mind studies (including its disciplines of neuroscience, psychology, philosophy, etc); but also between various camps within the sciences and humanities, and even within the public sphere. In the main, these differences reflect and\or stem from various epistemological and anthropological positions that continue to pose questions for both scientific inquiry and social conduct. Indeed, transformations in the construct of self and personhood are certain to impact ethico-legal considerations, policy decisions, ecological trends, if not the human condition at-large.

Working in our group, researchers Nicholas Fitz and Dan Howlader are focusing upon the ways that the increasing advancement, and societal reliance and role of neuroscience and neurotechnology may change current and longstanding ideas of self and personhood, and foster re-examination of more neurocentrically-oriented views of animals, fetuses, the obtunded, computers, and hybrid human-machine beings. Working from the premise that it’s not so much a question of if such epistemic shifts will occur, but when this will happen, Fitz and Howlader are questioning what society will do with this new information and its potential implications for policy and law.

Our general position is that a deepening understanding of the ways that nervous systems and brains are involved in (or evoke) those characteristics that we value as individuals, groups, and a species should compel and sustain the ways that we regard and treat the organisms that possess nervous systems that give rise to such characteristics. Moreover, neuroscience has – and will likely continue to –demonstrate that despite a wide array of individual differences, there are features that are common to nervous systems, and to the organisms in which they are embodied.

Simply put, we must ask whether and in what ways neuroscience might demonstrate the ways that we are alike and differ. Is it possible that neuroscience might afford both purchase and leverage to reconcile apparent differences between individuals, religions, cultures, and even species?  On some level, I think so, but perhaps a bigger and more important question is whether we as individuals, groups, cultures and a species will in fact embrace such knowledge to prompt positive change in our views, values, regard and actions toward those things that “have a brain and are a mind”.

Working with philosopher John Shook, Fitz and Howlader are examining if current ethico-legal concepts and criteria are adequate to deal with the contingencies posed by today’s neuroscientific and neurotechnological challenges, or if ethical and legal concepts and systems need to be adapted, or even developed anew to sufficiently account for and meet the epistemological, anthropological and socio-cultural (and economic) changes that neuroscience fosters.

I’ve stated in the blog before, and un-apologetically do so again here, that we call for frank, pragmatic assessment of neuroscientific and neurotechnological capability and limitations, and an openness to revising scientific facts, philosophical doctrine, and social constructs in preparation for and recognition of the potential proximate, intermediate, and distal effects that such new knowledge – and values – are likely to incur.

Given the reciprocal relationship of knowledge, technology, and culture it will be critical to develop ethical, legal, and political systems that appropriately reflect scientific advancements, apprehend the realities of social effect(s), and aptly guide, if not govern the use and manifestations of science in the public sphere. Knowledge both brings considerable power, and mandates increasing responsibility. To accept one without the other is a recipe for failure.

The question is, what then? What will we make of this?  I posit that if neuroscience is to have any value as a human endeavor, then the information it yields must be leveraged in both understanding and action. It’s not just what neuroscience informs and teaches, it’s about what we do with the knowledge we acquire. The discovery that an entity is painient and sentient is not esoteric, but rather means something both about that organism, and the ways that it should be considered. Neurocentric criteria, namely, whether a being manifests the ability for pain/suffering, some form of emotion, awareness of self,  and the type and extent of these properties,  are arguably  important for the way we morally regard – and ethically, legally and socially treat – other beings. These issues – and the questions they spawn – get particularly dicey given the capacity of neurally modeled robots to self-assess, manifest awareness, and self-develop and/or replicate.  Yet, the very fact that there is realistic discussion about our moral consideration of and for machines represents a shift in our epistemology and ethical paradigm.

And this prompts questions of if, and in what ways we can be prepared for the implications of new information. Let’s face it, the likelihood of conscious machines – as exciting as it may be – is still years away, even given the most fruitful estimate. So while a bit of “what if” speculation about mindful machines can rattle the girders of extant ethical constructs, I offer that ‘what if’ scenarios take a back seat to the real ‘what about’ questions raised by the nature and implications of neurocentric criteria for notions of normality and diversity, ontological status (e.g.- of embryos, the profoundly brain-damaged, non-human animals, etc) , and the ways we form and formulate beliefs, policies and laws. Can neuroscience provide a metric for how we assign moral regard? Will insights to the neural basis of moral cognition, beliefs and action afford a foundation upon which to structure ethics, policies and laws? Perhaps, at least in some ways, but I prefer not to work in absolutes.

Rather, my take is that neuroscience can- and should – contribute to knowledge about the nature of human and non-human beings, and what being is all about. Is neuroscience an answer – for sure.  Is it the only answer? Surely not, because I believe that any realistic approach to neuroscience must acknowledge the contextual basis of the embodied brain and the embeddedness of individuals in the spatiotemporal contingencies of society and culture. In other words, neuroscience works best within a (neuro)bio-psychosocial orientation – not in some esoteric or “new-agey” sense, but as an accurate depiction of the reciprocal interactions of the systems that make up organisms and their environments. In this way, neuroscience can provide purchase with which to probe ever deeper into existing questions of consciousness, cognition, beliefs, biases and behaviors, and to raise new questions – both about brain~mind and the ways we employ the knowledge we possess to guide our consideration and treatment of(both human and non-human)  others in what philosopher Owen Flanagan has called “ethics as human ecology”.

But a healthy measure of modesty is called for – neuroscience and its technologies are powerful tools, but like any tools, the responsibility to use them (and the knowledge and capabilities they bring ) in the right ways rests in our hands.  Let’s not over-estimate the power either.  There’s much we still do not know about the brain, consciousness, and how the biological, psychological and social domains interact. And this takes me back to our musings about conscious machines…it’s fun to speculate on what neuroscience holds for the future, and the element of speculation imparts a flair of the fictional.  It’s folly not to critically assess what this science holds for the present, foolhardy not to recognize the promise – and perils – that such science and technology may incur, and frighteningly dangerous not to devote time, effort and resources to studying, and developing ways to prudently guide each and every step ahead.

The internet could provide a medium for acquiring these data, and the richness of information available on the internet could be augmented through access to “real-world” environments, as well.  In other words, the system would ‘plug into’ both the vast informational resource of the internet, and the real world (via multi-channel sensors, for light, sound, tactile, and perhaps even olfactory inputs – and at levels that may have very different thresholds than humans, say, for example, infrared and ultraviolet light, and ultra and subsonic frequencies, etc ).  Taken together, this would provide the system with  direct-access data/information, and indirect-access, interpretive and analytic data/information that would greatly augment the amount and type(s) of “knowledge” the system could and would acquire, and be able to use.

That’s a lot to ponder, but it sets the stage.  Once these basic functions were established, the system could interpret its “real world” environments, and ferret through reams of data on the internet to create a “mosaic”  of the information needed to “auto-develop” engineering approaches to optimize its function in the environments it encounters, and those it seeks to engage. This could then be relayed to humans in order to create “systems’ desiderata” – a “needs and wish list”, if you will – to inform how to structure and/or modify the components of the system to achieve certain tasks, goals and even progressively more expanding ends.

The system could bring together a variety of other system components – both of the neural network and the physical structures that provide its inputs and outputs – and “present” these to its human builders as aspects of what would be needed to iteratively fine tune its functions and capabilities.  A potential advantage of this approach would be the ability of the robotic system to side-step the limitations of a human “builders’ bias”, to instead emphasize and exploit the dispositions and biases of the neural system to self-assess and support its own functions.

Let’s take this a few steps further; there is the possibility that the system could develop and/or evolve the capacity to “re-tool” itself, and in this way attempt to “take out the middle man”, so to speak.  Through generative encoding, the system could “propose” a robotic component that could enable and/or sustain the encoding process and its physical expression.  In other words, it could “request” the parts needed for a “building device” that then would allow the system to execute physical autopoiesis – more simply put, the ability to build new parts of itself, or construct new systems (without humans in the loop).

These new parts could be sub-components that synergize the activities of the major (or alpha) system, and in this way establish a multi-tasking “support network”.  This is not as far-fetched as it seems. The capacity for self-regulation is inherent to most, if not all, cybernetic and complex dynamical systems, and the achievement of certain goals would then feed back to the system and provide an ever-expanding palette of new niches, requirements and tasks  –  and through successive self re-modeling, the generation of new capabilities.  Moreover, this could occur rapidly, as the processes employed by the system for performance optimization might not be bounded by the restrictions of “outside-in” perspectives.

Now before we start spooling into visions of “intelligent robots” taking over the world, let’s ground these possibilities to practical realities. To be sure, there are a number of mitigating factors here.  First is that these systems need power, and so they’d be dependent upon the existing power supplies for their resources.  But, it is also possible that such systems, if and when working in synergy, could establish a “divert on demand” mechanism/pathway to provide access to necessary power supplies to sustain function across a range of environmental deprivations (and there is current discussion of the likelihood of such mechanisms being generated by cognitive systems as some form of “survival strategy” that almost any self-referential, cognitive system would be likely to develop).

Another limiting factor is that the materials for auto-fabrication would need to be acquired and available if such systems were to attempt to generate physical structures to expand their own functions.  There has been discussion about whether such systems could/would learn to gerry-rig or “MacGyver” their own components, so as to create physical adaptations necessary to execute evermore advanced/complex functions.  This too is not as much of a stretch as it sounds.  A robotic system that is modeled after or upon a human neuro-cognitive template could in fact, manifest something of a (metaphorically) Bayesian bias toward “tool use”, and in light of this, could learn to use the resources at hand to alter its structure in such ways as to adapt to new environmental challenges and “get the job done”.

As well, there is the claim that the digital nature of machine computation imposes limits upon the freedom with which expanded capability could be realized.  Here I think a bit of caution is warranted; a neuro-identically modeled system (if not an idealized neurally-modeled system) could rapidly achieve vast degrees of functional freedom by changing the sensitivities to functional thresholds. If the system were, for example, to develop a broad range of discriminations between a no-response value and response value (say, a Planck-based scale between 0 and 1 that involves almost infinitesimally small distinctions between each point value), it could develop very finely-grained capacity and patterns of parsing inputs and outputs and in this way, greatly refine – and expand – its functional repertoire.

Neural systems actually operate in this way: while the net effect in a given neural network may be activity or non-activity, and that of a nerve cell may be “fire/do not fire”, these overall characteristics reflect very finely-tuned, small-scale inputs and outputs (e.g.- at various regions of cell membranes, and at large numbers of points of inter-neuronal connections within the neural network) that are graded, and whose spatio-temporal pattern of activity cumulatively summate in to produce a “go/no-go” effect. So, a system modeled after or upon such neural activity could, or more probably would, function in much the same way, and this might provide the basis for its ongoing complexification, some sense of consciousness, self- awareness, and perhaps striving to flourish and survive.

Next week: Neuroethical Issues at the Precipice of Possibility.

There’s a lot there – and I think certainly enough – to justify the bad buzz. Let me offer an  analogy to what I see going on: picture one of those western movies where a bunch of guys are sitting around a card table playing cards and humming a tune, and they get pissed off at the honky tonk piano player for the way he butchers their favorite song; the guy keeps playing and in short order becomes ten fingers of target for a lot of Colt revolver rounds. Lesson learned: when the guys hummin’ the tune tell you that you’re botching it, shut up, listen, and either play it the right way, or play something else.

Same here. Mr Lindstrom, if you’re going to write about neuroscience and even claim to do neuroscientific work, then write about it in a way that garners some respect for the facts and realities of the field and don’t devolve into neurolalia and neuro-nonsense. In other words, if you’re gonna play it – play it right (or you shouldn’t play it at all).

Look, the piece could’ve been written a bit tongue-in-cheek…from the standpoint of “…given all the hoopla about neuroscience and neurotechnology, we might even be able to claim – albeit fallaciously – that the use of an iPhone, or any other gadget to which we develop a pattern of use and reliance, activates brain regions that might be considered to be substrates for love.” Then get into a discussion of why there are some real problems with that conclusion, address the whole neuro-nonsense thing, and reinforce that certain technologies might in fact alter the way neurological mechanisms are engaged to process various types of information, and even emotions. No harm there.

Or, it could’ve been spun that what might be going on is that communication devices like iPhones, and the legion of related products, foster feelings of expectation and anticipation (I could pop in a link here to a clip of Tim Curry in drag, but I won’t) because of the social interactions and connections they generate and sustain.  Same might be said for the accessibility to information; you know, the whole “extended/external lobe’ and “bio-psychosocial implications of new media” discussions. And, as matter of fact, an iPhone – or any other device that keeps us connected to our social sphere – might be a great way to fortify the bonds of attachment, and stay in touch with friends, lovers, and family. In today’s world of social isolation and long distance relationships, that little bit of technology could be the very tool we need to “…order some good Champagne and find love and compassion” – in a new fashioned way.  That’s one of the reasons we’re so enamored of these tools in the first place – they keep our social connectivity in the palm of our hand. No harm in those claims either.

Or, he could’ve stated that people really are attached to technology, and played the “technology as ideology,” “technology as social force,” “technological imperative,” and even the iterative cyborgization tune – certainly no harm, no foul.

And if he wanted to get cheeky in that discussion, both a colloquial and real use of the word ‘love’ relative to feelings toward things technological might not have been off base: Being a card-carrying motor-head, I know plenty of people who fuss, fawn and get misty eyed over a ’63 Jag E-Type or a ‘66 Mustang – and I’m one of them. And while I’m sure that neuroeconomics and neuromarketing approaches could be used, and might be of some value, to assess what neural mechanisms might be engaged by a Jag, 60’s muscle car, Porsche, or Prius, it’s still a long stretch – and a false one – to claim that my “Porsche circuit” is active, or that my “Shelby Cobra neurons” are firing, just as it’s off key to claim that my iPhone-neurons are sparking and my I love my iPhone circuitry is engaged!

So the justification for collectively drawing and aiming our academic pistols is as much for what Mr. Lindstrom didn’t play as for what he did.  I rally at length against neuro-nonsense and neurolalia, but I haven’t read the original papers describing Mr. Lindstrom’s work that “…looked at subjects’ brain activity as they viewed consumer images” or  “…an fMRI experiment to find out if iPhones were really, truly addictive,” nor were these cited in the article. For all I know they very well might’ve been rigorous and well done, and the results presented in peer-reviewed scientific journals in ways that were scholarly, sound and not over-inflated.

So, while the NY Times article could’ve – and as we’re hearing from the neuroscientific community, should’ve - been written differently, we might wait before firing, and recall that.  “…all the news that’s fit to print” doesn’t necessarily dictate that a position piece like Lindstrom’s is “news.” Moreover, sometimes – if not often times – the depth of discussion needed to accurately describe neuroscientific research and findings exceeds the space limits of the media format. Indeed, it may be a case of “…all the news that fits, we print.”

Still, I’m of the opinion that anyone who conducts neuroscientific research and presents it in the public media has a responsibility to do so in ways that are as accurate as possible, and as balanced as necessary. I wholly agree that Mr. Lindstrom’s rendition of neuroscientific findings was way off key. But maybe, instead of peppering this guy with volleys from our scholarly sidearms, we should fire a resounding warning shot (or maybe just render a flesh wound). Either way, that ought to get some attention.

Here’s why I say this – we really need the media to “play the tune” in accompaniment to our singing.  I’m all for “getting the word out” about neuroscientific research, its findings and the promise and pitfalls of using neuroscientific techniques and technologies in medicine, and the social sphere. I also think it’s great for the media to address the hazards of neuro-nonsense and neurolalia.  To borrow a quote from clothier Sy Syms, “…an educated consumer is our best customer.”

Neuroscience is resonating outside of the ivory tower and is part of the public discourse, and I think it’s important to engage the media in reporting on and about neuroscience.  There’s a responsibility here – both on the part of those of us who work in the field, and those who report on it.  But this is relatively new – the silos of academia have only just begun to be cracked by the resources of open access publishing, and internet dissemination of papers, lectures and conferences, and so it might take some practice with these instruments to get the tune right and play in orchestrated harmony.

Let’s face it, the reason we’re miffed in the first place is that our favorite tune – namely the depiction of neuroscience and its potential and problems – were botched.  That’s a tune very much worth singing, in its high notes and low notes, and there’s plenty of room in the score for harmony. But there is a score, and being off key, or hitting the wrong notes in some attempt to ad lib can ruin the tune – or worse, change it into something very different.

Like music, neuroscience has power in what it conveys – it can be upbeat and rousing, deep and contemplative, a dirge of dismay, or be used as propaganda.  I’ve no problem with an orchestrated approach to the complex harmonies of neuroscience, the information it conveys and the outcomes and products it delivers; indeed it can resound like Puccini or Wagner, and I’m all for lots of folks humming along and whistling the tune, but let’s respect the composers and do justice to the listeners, and not turn it into a jingle for selling newspapers.

I think it’s highly likely that in the not too distant future, robots that possess neurally-modeled sensory, information processing, decision and motoric systems will rapidly progress to increased levels of complexity and capacity, and in so doing acquire some type and/or level of consciousness. Research in neurally-based robotic systems is expanding: Efforts to create robots that incorporate complex, dynamic neural-like sensory acquisition, information integration and synthesis, and motor output systems, are both an intuitive and, many would say, predictable trajectory in the fusion of neural and robotic engineering. The approach relies upon and also provides a very useful set of heuristics. First, it is based upon the “tools-to-theory” heuristics of neuroscience, which has allowed significant progress in understanding the structure and basic functions of neural systems. Second, this has enabled “theory-to-tools” heuristics that have been actualized in the development and use of a variety of neurotechnologies, including neuro-interventional devices (e.g. transcranial and deep brain stimulation applications, nanoplatforms for pharmacological delivery, etc), brain-machine interfaces, and neuro-cognitive systems – such as those being created for these “next generation” robotics.

I believe that such “reverse-engineered” neural models of brain-like structures and functions will ultimately be a key to unraveling the enigma of consciousness.  This will close the heuristic loop through the re-engagement of a “tools-to-theory” approach. This very concept of utilizing tools to understand and create complex dynamical systems is fundamental to the engineering of neurally-competent robots. While we’d create the general template for the neural system and robot, it is the tool itself (i.e. the neural system “embodied” in the robot) that would develop techniques and implements to identify the features of its physical system that need to be fortified, modified, or discarded, based upon acquired information about the environment in which it exists, and the tasks necessary to act under changing conditions within such environments.

So, simply put, the system could acquire a form of “physical intelligence” rather quickly, and then iteratively adapt its neural functions and physical features to optimize inputs and outputs. We’re already on this path in that the ongoing work of a number of labs is to engineer systems that are predisposed to “learn”, and adapt their structures and functions so as to maximize both continued learning, and a set of performance outputs in the environments in which they operate.

In many ways, such generative encoding represents what is called an autopoietic – or self constructing – system, and as such operates both developmentally and somewhat “evolutionarily” – first to modify itself (i.e. developmentally) and then to affect others of its type to progressively adapt (i.e. evolutionarily) to ever-more complex levels of information acquisition and use, and activity.  On a number of levels, such autofunctional systems might be seen as desirable, because they have “build ‘em and leave ‘em” qualities, and thus humans would assume the role of Richard Dawkins’ proverbial “blind watchmaker“.  These kinds of systems would learn what they’d need to know and do to achieve a set of tasks and goals that we define and describe – at least initially.

But, as I told Lakshmi, the neural networks and bodies that we create for the system are not necessarily those that the system would develop for itself (think about that “special gift” someone gave you on your last birthday – the tie with the purple flying pigs on it, or the lime green blazer with red stitching; often, what others think you need and want tends to reflect their taste and wants more than your own). Recall that what’s being toyed with here is the creation of not only real cybernetic entities (in the strict sense of the word – a system of progressively adaptive feed-forward/feed-back mechanisms, as defined by Norbert Weiner), but complex, dynamical cybernetic systems, with all the features, bells and whistles that such systems entail.

These systems are very sensitive to initial and changing conditions, and are responsive – and adapt to – various attractors and constraints that might not be readily apparent to humans from outside the system. So, the neural system could, and likely would, rather quickly establish its own heuristics for what works and what doesn’t, and employ parts-to-whole (i.e. “bottom-up”) and whole-to-parts (i.e. “top-down”) self-assessments, to provide sort of an “inside out” perspective to “teach” its builders what it structurally requires to optimize its functions.  But, we must ask if we are really ready to learn what a machine is (trying) to teach us, and what we can – and should – do with this knowledge.

Next: By-passing the human middle man: Neurally-modeled machines that “create” themselves?

                                               Rod Stewart

Recently Mercier and Sperber have reported on the role of reason in human cognition, social behavior, and formulation of epistemological capital. In an evolutionary-developmental (evo-devo) neuroscientific light, this comports well with a bio-psychosocial model of both individual and cultural cognitive capability. As a species (and like many other species) we tend to augment our existing capabilities and skills, and compensate for those we lack. In this way, the ability to reason may afford particular cognitive capacities that facilitates our social interactions, and compensates for the limitations and restrictions imposed by a single point of view. Sort of a combination of “there’s power in numbers” and “two heads are better than one” approach to social cognition. I’m fond of referring to the late George Bugliarello’s concept of BioSoMa, as an interesting model to depict the engagement of social interaction and use of tools (e.g.- machination) in response to our biological abilities and limitations. As Mercier and Sperber note, it seems that reasoning is based upon a set of fundamental cognitive constructs and intuitions, and provides a mechanism with which to navigate through the nuances of an issue. But the human ability to reason is not reason to expect a lack of bias in the ways of thought and action; but rather, quite the opposite – reason provides a way to approach a situation and/or problem by engaging our subjective cognitive and emotional perspective in comparison (and perhaps contest) with the ideas of others. And frequently, it’s a case of “let the best biases win”.

This supports what I have referred to as Anselm’s Paradox; simply put, we believe in order to understand (rather than to understand things in order to form beliefs about them). The root of the paradox lies in our process of rationalization: we engage reason to sidestep the influence of beliefs, yet we are wedded to fundamental beliefs (including that of our powers of reason) that shape the way we reason. What’s more, our reasoning is often subject to emotional influence, and thus reasoning processes tend to be “skewed” by resonance or dissonance to emotionally-valent ideas or beliefs, and this may provide some relative survival benefit. Having opinions and knowing our likes and dislikes (based upon experience, or in some cases what we’ve been told and/or tutored) can serve to guide the ways we intuit situations and make what we feel to be  “rational” decisions about what we hold and value to be good or bad. So, such emotional flavoring of cognitive processes seems to be inherent to the ways that we rationalize, and employ reasoning to work through problems and situation. Neuroscientist Antonio Damasio asserts that in many cases a “…reduction in emotion may constitute an…irrational behavior”. Indeed, as Christian Smith has claimed, we are moral believing animals, and our moral cognitions, regard, and actions are based upon and predicated by our beliefs – including a belief in our capacity for, and the solidity of reason. Yet, reasoning by its nature as an individual and group process may often advance biases that can both initiate and be used to justify aggression against those who do not share – or are the object of – our particular biases. As so well stated by Mephistopheles in Goethe’s Faust, “…it’s called reason and man needs it – and it alone – to be more beastly than any beast.”

Thus, it is critical that we develop a fuller and more finely-grained knowledge of the mechanisms, expression and influence of reason (see for example, Jan Verplaetse et al, (eds.) The Moral Brain). Such insight to the ways we perceive, recall and relate to experience, establish expectations, and generate notions of good and bad and right and wrong, all influence our moral cognitions and decision-making, and can be regarded as the focus and palette of neuroethics (at least in the so-called “first tradition”, as “neuromorality”). But, here too, let us exercise prudence – while neuroscience and neuroethics may be seen as a critical and pragmatic approach to sharpen both the lens and mirror with which we view our capabilities and limitations, we must ensure that the methods we use – both to conduct such science and in its utilization as a social force – are rigorous and sound. Robin Horton has posited that science and traditional beliefs represent forms of theoretical thinking; the scientific orientation differing only when embraced as (and in) an open culture that is aware of its own limitations, and the presence and influence of other constructs and concepts (see for example,  Patterns of Thought in Africa and the West: Essays on Magic, Religion and Science)   .

And perhaps, this supports, as Mercier and Sperber suggest, the role and value of reason, and takes us back to the concept of BioSoMa. The most current instantiation of the tools we engage to enable and embellish our biology, social interactions, and ability to understand and control the world at-large is science and technology; and like any tool, these too reflect “builders’ bias” in the way they are developed and employed. Despite certain Pollyannaish claims to the contrary, science – including neuroscience – is based upon and articulates a set of beliefs, and is neither a value-free nor an unbiased culture. Its saving grace, however, is its methodology, which when scrupulously applied and adhered to, dictates and enables particular controls for bias, and other threats to validity and reliability. Most importantly, (good) science is dialectical and presents reasoned perspectives precisely with the aim of incurring arguments that function in the iterative refinement of ideas and concepts (viz.- “facts” ) toward the achievement of (at least temporary) truths. So a neuroscientific understanding of reason that comports with an evolutionary bio-psychosocial view could be important to gain insights to human cognition, emotions, and actions – including those that have moral relevance and influence. But let’s be reasonable and frame any such approaches as theoretical and speculative, bear in mind the role of beliefs and emotions upon the reasoning process, and also recognize the moral, legal and social power that can be derived from our ability to reason.

See also: A Reason for Reason at the Wilson Quarterly

As Carter notes, neuroscience offers knowledge and tools, but like any insight or capability, these can be improperly used, and/or frankly (and perhaps intentionally) misused to achieve ends that are inconsistent with the moral obligations of medicine.

Rigorous studies of the neural basis of addiction – and its potential treatments – are important to both define the biology of such conditions, and also to more accurately depict how neural mechanisms of cognition, emotion and behavior are influenced by – and affect – the psychosocial aspects of the patient, and the culture in which patients are nested. I believe that there’s a particular imperative to further and better describe and define the neurobiological and psycho-social substrates that are operative in drug-, gambling- and even internet-use and overuse, given that these behaviors are to be classified as “addiction” in the forthcoming DSM-5 (that is now in field trials). The intent of this more broadly construed categorization is to explicate these conditions as pathological, and in this way, align their diagnosis and care with the medical model (and in so doing effect good for those persons who are so afflicted).

But let’s not forget that patients – and medicine – exist in a social environment that is governed by law(s), and the language of society at-large, medicine, and law often differ in terms and intent. Even when terms cross these domains, their meanings and utility can and frequently do differ (think, for example of words like “insanity,” “conscious/consciousness,” “competent,” “capable,” and in extremis, even the meaning of, and criteria for, “dead.” Thus, the wedding of a bio-medical model and a legally-pregnant term opens a virtual Pandora’s Box of potential problems.

Neurobiology is important to any naturalistic construct of the human being, human behavior and human condition, and should be part of the calculus when assessing and trying to determine causality, capability and, as David Eagleman has often argued, even culpability. But while a vital variable, it is not the only variable.  We’ve moved beyond the proverbial nature vs. nurture debate and settled into a more complementary – and realistic -perspective that Matt Ridley refers to as “nature via nurture.” This reflects George Engel’s notion of humans a bio-psychosocial organisms, which nicely sets up the fact that there’s an ongoing and reciprocal interaction of human biology, psychology (as individual and group cognition), and social environments and circumstances.

While this can generate a pretty extensive discussion of the whys, whats, and hows of these interactions, I’ll leave that for another time and focus on what I feel is a very pragmatic issue. Namely, that neurobiologic and psychologic aspects of human health, activity and disease are expressed in the social sphere. So, if we assert that certain neural mechanisms that influence reinforcement-seeking behaviors are considered to be pathologic, call that condition “addiction”, and categorize it as a medical disorder, then we should be prepared to appropriately change the psycho-social construct of addiction to match, in order to de-stigmatize the disorder, align legal approaches to the term, condition and those who are affected by it (viz. “addicts”), and empower the use of medical resources and services to treat it. Things can get sticky – if not downright criminal – for patients, clinicians and society when “fuzzy definitions” of medical conditions and their treatments incur legal ramifications.

But the fact that neuroscience (as a tool), medicine, and law exist in, and as functional dimensions of society also suggests that society – or more realistically the people who comprise society – makes certain requests and demands of science, healthcare and the justice system. It’s the call for social good that sustains the use of neuroscience in biomedicine, and defining such good for the individuals and groups that make up society is important to guide how neuroscientific research is conducted, and in what ways and to what ends its techniques and technologies are applied.

We as a society (writ-small as a society of professionals, and writ-large as a worldwide collection of communities) define what standards shall be employed to make claims of normality, abnormality, order, disorder, conformity and deviance. And while it is fine to think that the call for neuroscientific diagnoses and treatments of “addiction” are solely based upon the beneficent motives of medicine, let’s stop a minute and ask if such directives for intervention would be so pressing if the ramifications of what we construe as “addictive” behaviors were not socially castigated or outside the letter of the law.

This reflects a broader issue. Often, society calls for science to respond to the ills of the human condition, and prevent or fix certain aspects of the human predicament of pain, sadness, suffering, violence and even death.  We have looked to science to better explain why things happen to us, and in us, including the human propensity for pleasure, non-conformity and violence. We ask “what is it about our nature that fosters such thoughts and actions”, and how can we employ science to predict, prevent or reduce these aspects of our nature? Events such as the shootings in Norway, Phoenix, and Columbine, the violence and aberrance that confronts us in the daily news, all evoke a social plea for science to “do something.” Yet, we recoil when “doing something” entails the use of currently available techniques and technologies to define, predict, and/or mitigate such socially disruptive acts.

The sniff of Manchurian Candidate, Terminal Man, and Minority Report scenarios, coupled with very real – and legitimate – concerns about trumping individual autonomy, invasions of privacy, and scientific totalitarianism all tend to squelch the use of these neuroscientific approaches (and by this I mean “convergent” neuroscientific approaches, inclusive of genetics, imaging, cyber-linked data bases, pharmacology, and internal and external neurotechnological devices) in such ways. Adrian Carter is right when he states that “moral responses can shape the way that neuroscience research is understood and applied,” and that findings can easily – and readily –  be “misunderstood and misused;” points that I’ve consistently emphasized as important, not only for the public conception of things “neuro,” but for biomedical utility and employment of neuroscience and neurotechnology, as well.

But Carter’s claim that neuroscientific research should not be used “…as a way of controlling deviant social behavior…achieving other social goals…such as reducing crime or criminal justice costs” might lean toward misconstruing what ought to be with what is (i.e.- the naturalistic fallacy). Let’s not be naïve, science – including neuroscience – is used to achieve particular social goals, whether they be healthcare, improving the quality of daily life, striving to flourish, or making and keeping the public “safe.” Science is a public good, and as such, can be leveraged in ways that affect the relative costs and values of other market factors (to which recent debates regarding the provision of high-tech healthcare will attest). Included among these is the need and call for reducing the economic impact and burden of disease, illness, and crime. To be sure, there are profound humanitarian aspects to such a call, and this cannot be denied. In fact, I pose that it’s the very balance of humanitarian and socio-economic considerations that are necessary to effect the ethically sound use of neuroscience and neurotechnology. One need only to look closely at the “public health” rhetoric of Hitler’s Germany to find evidence of what can happen when socio-economics – absent humanitarian regard – are used to play upon and leverage public opinion about the ways science can be used to incur heinous ends.

Let’s not throw out the baby with the bathwater. Neuroscience is a powerful tool, and its power can be rendered whether the knowledge and capability it provides are used correctly or incorrectly, or in ways that produce good or harm. But neuroscience is not an independent entity; it is a human enterprise, and is used by humans for humans (including ways that influence their insight, relationship, regard and treatment of non-human species). We as individuals, communities and societies decide what to study, what results mean, how much information is sufficient to generate certain uses and actions, and what actions and applications should be taken with the tools and knowledge at hand. It’s crucial that we recognize the power of this capacity, and strive to wash the dirt of mis-appropriated science and its outcomes down the drain, while keeping the need for, and importance of rigorous science, its outcomes, and potential for it to provide ethically solid, beneficial  social effects intact and squeaky clean.

At face value, there are a number of important big-picture “take-home” messages that can be gleaned from this study’s findings. The first is that brains are embodied in organisms that are embedded in environments (a phrase that I’m rather fond of using). The second is that this is probably a reciprocal interaction – brains may be structured to optimize function in a particular environment or set of environmental niches, and the niches in which an organism lives may strongly contribute to the ways that its brain structure and function(s) develop. The third, while seemingly a blinding flash of the obvious, is often a tripping point when interpreting or trying to speculate on the meaning of such studies’ results – namely, not all species live in the same environments, and not all brains are structured and function the same ways (both between species, and even within individual organisms and groups of organisms within a species). And finally, and perhaps, the most important of these “take-home” messages is that it’s not wise to try to directly “connect the dots” between both basic research and translational applications, and between model species and target species. Hyman, Verriotis et al. do a fine job of presenting their methods and results, and keeping the implications of, and inferences based upon these outcomes in appropriate scope, scale and contexts, and it’s perfectly OK (and, in fact, expected) to make inferences that support the need for additional more-applied research, or to address and compensate for differences between the model and the target species (what is sometimes referred to as “the extrapolators’ dilemma”).

But things get all gummed-up when research outcomes are taken out of context and used to make big jumps from premise to conclusions across broad expanses of methodological and phylogenetic real estate. Thus, in the case of rats’ neurological capacities for vertical orientation, in order to draw meaningful conclusions that are more broadly applicable, it would be necessary to conduct similar studies to assess the neural mechanisms for, and sensitivities to horizontal versus vertical orientation in other species, say, for the most obvious example, birds, or if you’d prefer to stick to mammals, squirrels, bats, arboreal and non-arboreal primates, and even, humans (ideally, not using invasive means, although using neuroimaging then raises a host of questions about actual utility and limitations of such methods).

In other words, without some type of human studies in particular, it’s difficult if not frankly problematic to infer what these results (using the rat model) mean for applications in “real-world” human scenarios. For example, I’ve seen some “spin” that the Hayman et al findings of rats’ horizontal sensitivity could be used to explain pilot disorientation and by extension, cases of pilot error and aviation mishaps). I’ve got a problem with this.  In a “previous life,” I was an Aerospace Physiologist and Aviation Safety Investigator, and I’m aware of a large body of evidence to support that most cases of pilot disorientation are due to either (1) loss of situational awareness, (2) distraction, or (3) some form of spatial/sensory uncoupling and/or vertigo. Could movement in the vertical plane be contributory to this? Of Course. Is it possible that human brains do not efficiently process vertical orientation? Sure. Do we directly know this from the work of Hayman et al.? No. In some ways, that might be tantamount to claiming, “human pilot disorientation is due to rats’ diminished neurological sensitivity to vertical space.”

Rats have been, and may continue to be, a fine model for human neural function (although there is an issue here that relates back to what we do with the knowledge we gain relative to our regard for, and treatment of the model itself – I’ll be writing more about this in my forthcoming blog). True, both rats and humans are terrestrial animals and this may confer some similarities in the ways that ground-dwelling has affected neural evolution, development and capacities. But humans and rats do not have an identical evolutionary history, nor do we occupy the same environments in the same ways. Simply put, while our brains are similar to those of rats in many ways, we are not rats. So, while rats are wonderful, sophisticated creatures, humans are sophisticated in myriad other ways, and an understanding of the rat’s neural mechanisms should not be used to try to explain human cognitions and actions (and here I might add that it would be equally prudent to be cautious in drawing reductive conclusions about the basis of human cognition and actions from studies of human brains!).

It may very well be that the results of the study by Hayman and co-workers hold true for squirrels, bats, apes and humans (including aviators and non-aviators), but until we conduct such studies and know that for sure, it is important not to take findings about neural mechanisms of vertical orientation in the rat to a higher level than they were intended, or are applicable.  Sure, it’s tempting to speculate upon what findings about rats’ neurological orientation to vertical space could mean for primates in a tree or humans bringing a 757 into LaGuardia. But, while I hate to pop anyone’s bubble, it really just means that rats don’t have a strong neurological orientation to vertical space. That’s it; that’s what Hayman et al. have shown, and that’s important, as it provides an understanding of the rat’s nervous system, and lays the groundwork for some exciting future studies. Models and findings that establish and fortify premises, and open possibilities for ongoing research with basic, translational and applied potential are valuable and useful. Making misappropriated comparisons and ampliative conclusions are not – particularly when such conclusions over-simplify the complexities of human cognition and behavior, and their social, legal and ethical consequences.

As neuroscientists, there’s a risk we run whenever our research findings are let out of the ivory tower and into the public sphere, and sometimes that’s hard to control.  The very technology that allows me to publish my work in open access journals, and even shoot this blog across the ether of the Internet certainly plays a role in that, as information from the lab gets picked up, used and interpreted by a variety of sources. I’ve rallied against neurolalia, and Ray Tallis’ new book, The Aping of Man, Neuromania, Darwinitis, and the Misrepresentation of Humanity is equally strong in its condemnation of inapt neuromania, and I applaud Dr. Tallis in his call for more stringent consideration and use of neuroscientific studies, tools, and information. Indeed, there’s great power in such information – and with this power comes an increasing responsibility to shepherd it appropriately and wisely, lest we fall victim to Icarus’ folly of hubris and self-deceit: to fly too high on wings of weak evidence and misinformation that melt under the light and heat of scrutiny.

It was with great interest that I read Deric Bownds’ recent MindBlog re-post about representation of inner lives, and his current post about the utility of being vague. I think that taken together, these two concepts well describe the state-of-the field of neuroscience, and nicely frame how neuroscience and the use of neurotechnology can affect the public mindset.

Larissa MacFarquhar’s profile of Paul and Patricia Churchland in a February edition of The New Yorker magazine stated that the first family of neurophilosophy “…like to speculate about a day when whole chunks of English are replaced by scientific words that call a thing by its proper name, rather than some outworn metaphor.” I’m all for that, and I respect most of Paul and Pat Churchland’s work as being spot-on the mark. But we might need to be careful about replacing one metaphor with another, lest we engage this vocabulary exercise prematurely and/or get too carried away. There’s a lot of stuff going on in one’s neural networks that make up the peripheral and central nervous system, and while some of this is kind of a “toe bone leads to foot bone leads to leg bone” arrangement, such straightforward descriptions get dicey once we get inside the head bones and into the brain.

As Michael Crawford has noted, there are “limits to neuro-talk”. I believe that this is true for both the ubiquitous use of the neuro prefix (to imply or denote a form of quasi-physicalist – and often inappropriate – certainty about the way[s] that brain function might be related to particular events, circumstances, behaviors, that range from sensing beauty to engaging violence, and moral justice to going nuts over Justin Bieber, etc…), and also the penetration of “neuro-talk” into the public lexicon and working vocabulary.

While those of us who are professionally immersed in neuroscience – like Paul and Pat Churchland – might be able to relate neural events to phenomenal experiences (or perhaps more accurately, describe phenomenal experiences in terms of the neural events that might be involved in their sensation and/or perception; e.g. ‘ouch…there go my damn A-delta fibres again‘), even that stands on somewhat shaky ground. In fact, trying to discern objectivity from subjective experience is one of the problems plaguing fields such as neurology, psychiatry and pain medicine. While it’s an academic drill to describe the neuroanatomy and neurophysiology of sensations (such as those important to symptoms of injury and/or disease), it’s far more difficult for even those who are well-trained in neuroanatomy and neurophysiology to contextualize how myriad pathways and networks are actually being activated to produce sensations, perceptions, cognitions and emotions. Bridging this objectivity-subjectivity gap is the focus of much of current – and proposed – neurotechnology.

Still, sometimes it can be a cool “thought experiment” to conceptualize bodily experiences so as to imagine what neural networks are sparking and squirting away in different areas of the body and brain – what neuroscientist Antonio Damasio calls “the feeling of what happens” (yes, I’ve done this myself plenty of times). But there really isn’t a one-to-one representation of neurological event to phenomenal/psychological experience (what’s known as type-physicalism). Instead, current neuroscience tends to reveal a more token-physicalism, in which events in the body and brain create an amalgam of activities that are experienced as our psychological ideas, feelings, perceptions and emotions.

Maybe one day we will be able to accurately depict – and describe – what’s going in the “grey stuff” (and the white stuff) of the brain to create the “great stuff” of consciousness, but we’re not there yet. While Pat Churchland calls for that glass of Chardonnay to reset her brain chemistry after a hard day, I have to wonder whether she senses (and relates to) that glass of the grape in ways that are valid to an oenophile, or whether it just makes Pat feel better. While the oenophile’s vocabulary is important to a professional appreciation of wine, words like “bouquet” “caskiness” and “woody” might be of little value, meaningless – or have very different (and perhaps inappropriate or downright erroneous) meanings – to someone who is not a professional expert or connoisseur.

Sure, it is important to employ the “right words in the right ways” to describe things, and this could be very useful when talking about neuroscience, but over-simplifying neuroscience to fit daily colloquialism can be iffy if not downright dangerous (as this then gets into issues of “my neural networks made me do it”). A-delta fibres certainly do transmit types of pain – but things get complicated once this transmission engages spinal and supraspinal networks. So while plunging mood could be representative of plummeting serotonin levels, alterations in dopamine, glutamate and a host of other neuromodulatory chemicals, and one might claim that “my dopamine levels are down”, to quote Marisa Tomei’s adorable character in the flick “My Cousin Vinny“: “…how can you be so sure?” In other words, can we accurately describe what’s really going on in our brains at a synaptic-to-network level? I think not, and in fact, it would be problematic to do so, other than in scientific or clinical settings.

That’s not to say that we couldn’t use such information and descriptions in socio-cultural and public contexts (and I’ve suggested that understanding neural mechanisms involved in a variety of experiences, such as pain, aggression, and spirituality, might be regarded in this way, so as to develop an enhanced appreciation for the nature, relevance and perhaps importance of biological, psycho-social and anthropological variables involved). There is value in seeing the forest and not just the trees, just as there is value (in the right settings and at the right times) in seeing the trees in the forest. However, in both cases, I believe that it’s important to see – and describe – the forest and the tress as clearly and realistically as possible.

I’m fond of the Thomistic maxim of using the right forms of knowledge in the right ways toward the right actions. But therein lies the rub. The right knowledge of neuroscience would need to reflect the recognition that we simply do not yet know exactly how consciousness occurs in brain, and so we continuously confront the gap between brain state and phenomenal experiences. Neurotechnology can provide some insights to fording this gap, and maybe neurotechnology will develop to the point of creating “personal apps” that enable me to ‘tap into’ my brain state(s) an any given time – so I could be more accurate in stating that my anterior cingulate is active and my sub-cortical serotonin levels are low. Such phrases could have meaning outside the lab or clinic if they had some level of utility and consistency. Or maybe not – maybe it’s just too far into the weeds. Here I have to chuckle a bit; I’ve been accused of blogging the way I write in my academic papers (which reminds me of that old Monty Python skit about the RAF pilot who comes in after a mission to report, and none of the ground crew understand his banter), and the “take home message” is that sometimes – and especially in public conversation – simplicity works best.

I’ve claimed that the term “neuro” is something of synecdoche (how’s that for stepping on simplicity!); simply put, it’s a term or phrase that represents something greater: examples include the colloquial use of terms like “Wall Street”, and “Main Street USA”. In this way, I’ve argued that the “neuro” prefix doesn’t really confer any particular materialist view or certainty to those suffixes to which it’s applied, but rather, brings forth the discourse and debate about what we know and don’t know about neural functions, the brain and consciousness.

And maybe “neuro-talk” is the same; perhaps terms like “happy”, “sad”, “love”, “hate”, “angry” and “hurt” are convenient place-holders that can – and in some instances should – be converted to “neuro-talk” if, when and where appropriate. Or, it may be that as neuroscience and neurotechnology open new vistas to brain function, we will need to replace older anachronistic terms and phrases that are laden with inextricable meanings, with new terms and phrases that more accurately and precisely define what’s going on in the brain. Still, these descriptions, new terms and phrases, while attempting to abolish certain vagaries, must be used in ways that acknowledge the vagaries and uncertainties that persist. As well, these new descriptions will likely default to simplicity, if for no other reason than to maintain public ease and access.

To be sure, there’s a lot more to this topic and it’s rich with possibility, questions and some problems, but right now my rising levels of adenosine are to the point where the consistent reticular activation of my thalamo-cortical networks are diminishing, and prompting a strong outflow of my nucleus accumbens to prompt goal-directed behavioral activation toward acquisition of a prototypical nutriceutical purinergic antagonist; I hope that the barista down in the coffee shop will understand.