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Why are
you a believer? |
More and more people are discovering why -
don't you want to know too?
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I dont think it reduces feelings of
spirituality in any way to understand that they are based in brain
processes, just as it doesnt diminish my love for someone to know that the
feeling is caused by brain activity. Why should it? I know how a piano
works, but it doesnt detract from my appreciation of Mozart.
- Paul Brooks, neuropsychologist and
author, The Times, Dec 2006
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Religion a Figment of Human Imagination
Humans alone practice religion because they're the only
creatures to have evolved imagination.
Andy Coghlan
New Scientist
May 2008
That's the argument of anthropologist Maurice Bloch of the London School of
Economics. Bloch challenges the popular notion that religion evolved and
spread because it promoted social bonding, as has been argued by some
anthropologists.
Instead, he argues that first, we had to evolve the
necessary brain architecture to imagine things and beings that don't
physically exist, and the possibility that people somehow live on after
they've died.
Once we'd done that, we had access to a form of social interaction
unavailable to any other creatures on the planet. Uniquely, humans could use
what Bloch calls the "transcendental social" to unify with groups, such as
nations and clans, or even with imaginary groups such as the dead. The
transcendental social also allows humans to follow the idealised codes of
conduct associated with religion.
"What the transcendental social requires is the
ability to live very largely in the imagination," Bloch writes.
"One can be a member of a transcendental group, or a nation, even though one
never comes in contact with the other members of it," says Bloch. Moreover,
the composition of such groups, "whether they are clans or nations, may
equally include the living and the dead."
Modern-day religions still embrace this idea of communities bound with the
living and the dead, such as the Christian notion of followers being "one
body with Christ", or the Islamic "Ummah" uniting Muslims.
Stuck in the here and now
No animals, not even our nearest relatives the chimpanzees, can do this,
argues Bloch. Instead, he says, they're restricted to the mundane and
Machiavellian social interactions of everyday life, of sparring every day
with contemporaries for status and resources.
And the reason is that they can't imagine beyond this immediate social
circle, or backwards and forwards in time, in the same way that humans can.
Bloch believes our ancestors developed the necessary neural architecture to
imagine before or around 40-50,000 years ago, at a time called the Upper
Palaeological Revolution, the final sub-division of the Stone Age.
At around the same time, tools that had been monotonously primitive since
the earliest examples appeared 100,000 years earlier suddenly exploded in
sophistication, art began appearing on cave walls, and burials began to
include artefacts, suggesting belief in an afterlife, and by implication the
"transcendental social".
Once humans had crossed this divide, there was no going back.
"The transcendental network can, with no problem, include the dead,
ancestors and gods, as well as living role holders and members of
essentialised groups," writes Bloch. "Ancestors and gods are compatible with
living elders or members of nations because all are equally mysterious
invisible, in other words transcendental."
Nothing special
But Bloch argues that religion is only one manifestation of this unique
ability to form bonds with non-existent or distant people or value-systems.
"Religious-like phenomena in general are an inseparable part of a key
adaptation unique to modern humans, and this is the capacity to imagine
other worlds, an adaptation that I argue is the very foundation of the
sociality of modern human society."
"Once we realise this omnipresence of the imaginary in the everyday, nothing
special is left to explain concerning religion," he says.
Chris Frith of University College London, a co-organiser of a "Sapient Mind"
meeting in Cambridge last September, thinks Bloch is right, but that "theory
of mind" – the ability to recognise that other people or creatures exist,
and think for themselves – might be as important as evolution of
imagination.
"As soon as you have theory of mind, you have the possibility of deceiving
others, or being deceived," he says. This, in turn, generates a sense of
fairness and unfairness, which could lead to moral codes and the possibility
of an unseen "enforcer" - God – who can see and punish all wrong-doers.
"Once you have these additions of the imagination, maybe theories of God are
inevitable," he says.
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Why children become
so attached to toys and comfort blankets
Psychologists link beloved object to intuitive belief. Study
shows most will not swap for identical item
Steven Morris
March 9, 2007
Guardian
Children become emotionally attached to cuddly
toys, blankets and even smelly old scraps of material because they
intuitively believe they possess a unique essence or life force,
psychologists said yesterday. In a study that will surprise few parents, it
was found that children preferred their cherished comfort blankets or
favourite raggedy bear over duplicates apparently identical in every way.
The results suggested that even very young children invest in such objects
intangible qualities that cannot be replicated.
The study compared the reaction of the children to that of art enthusiasts
who prefer an original to a copy that is identical in every way.
Previous studies have shown that up to 70% of young children develop strong
attachments to objects such as toys or blankets. The phenomenon tends to be
confined to the western world, where children usually sleep apart from their
parents at an early age.
Bruce Hood, of the University of Bristol, and Paul Bloom of Yale University
in the US, decided to try to find out why.
Parents were asked to bring children aged three to six into a laboratory
with their "attachment object" or if they had no such object, a toy or doll
that they liked.
To count as an attachment object, the child had to regularly sleep with it
and have had it for at least a third of his or her life.
The children were shown what they were told was a "copying machine" - in
reality a conjuror's cabinet made up of two boxes. The doors of the two
boxes were open and a green block put into one of them. Then the doors shut,
an experimenter twiddled some knobs and the first box buzzed.
A few moments later a buzz came from the second box. The doors of both boxes
opened to reveal a green block in both of them - the experimenter had
slipped an identical block into the second box.
Then the experimenter asked the children if they would let the objects they
had brought in be copied. They could choose if they wanted the new one or
the old one back. All of those with "non-attachment" objects allowed them to
be copied and almost two-thirds decided to keep the "new" object - in fact,
it was their own object.
Of the 22 children who did have attachment objects, four stubbornly refused
to allow them to be copied at all. Of the 18 who did let their precious
items be copied, only five opted to have the "duplicate".
At the end, all children were shown how the illusion worked so they knew
they had their original item back.
Prof Hood said the experiment showed that children believe that in addition
to the physical properties of their objects, there was some other quality to
them that cannot be copied.
He said: "If there was a machine which copied a favourite object in every
way down to atomic level, we would still prefer the original. It has an
essence to it. This experiment suggests this is an intuitive process.
"We anthropomorphise objects, look at them almost as if they have feelings.
The children know these objects are not alive but they believe in them as if
they are."
While the tendency to sleep with a comfort blanket is thought to be largely
a western trait, Prof Hood said believing objects had an essence was not.
Some eastern beliefs centre on all things having a life force and some
cultures find it difficult to live in other people's homes because they feel
there is something intangible left of the previous people in them.
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Brain stimulation creates shadow person
Swiss scientists say they've found electrical stimulation of
the brain can create the sensation of a "shadow person" mimicking one's
bodily movements.
physorg.com
21 Sep 2006
Olaf Blanke and colleagues at the Federal Polytechnic School of Lausanne say
their discovery might help shed light on brain processes that contribute to
the symptoms of schizophrenia, which can include the sensation that one's
own actions are being performed by someone else.
Doctors evaluating a woman with no history of psychiatric problems found
stimulation of an area of her brain called the left temporoparietal junction
caused her to believe a person was standing behind her.
The patient reported that "person" adopted the same bodily positions as her,
although she didn't recognize the effect as an illusion. At one point in the
investigation, the patient was asked to lean forward and clasp her knees:
this led to a sensation that the shadow figure was embracing her, which she
described as unpleasant.
The finding could be a step towards understanding psychiatric affects such
as feelings of paranoia, persecution and alien control, say neuroscientists.
The discovery is reported in a Brief Communication in this week's issue of
the journal Nature.
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Why 'imaginary voices' are male
A university research team says it has discovered why most
people "hearing voices" in hallucinations say they hear male voices.
By Sean Coughlan
BBC News education reporter
13 July 2005
Dr Michael Hunter's research at the University of Sheffield says that male
voices are less complex to produce than female.
As such, when the brain spontaneously produces its own "voices", a male
voice is more likely to have been generated.
Among both men and women, 71% of such "false" voices are male.
'False perception'
"Psychiatrists believe that these auditory hallucinations are caused when
the brain spontaneously activates, creating a false perception of a voice,"
says Professor Hunter of the university's psychiatry department.
"The reason these voices are usually male could be explained by the fact
that the female voice is so much more complex that the brain would find it
much harder to create a false female voice accurately than a false male
voice," he says.
Such imaginary voices are typically likely to be middle-aged and carry
"derogatory" messages.
The research, published in NeuroImage, shows how the brain interprets
information from human voices - and how female and male voices activate
different parts of the brain.
"The female voice is more complex than the male voice, due to differences in
the size and shape of the vocal cords and larynx between women and men, and
also due to women having greater natural 'melody' in their voices.
"This causes a more complex range of sound frequencies than in a male
voice," says Professor Hunter.
These gender differences in voices trigger responses in different parts of
brain - and as the male version is simpler, both men and women who hear
voices, are on average more likely to produce a male-sounding voice.
The research says that "auditory verbal hallucinations" are a symptom of
schizophrenia and "occur in 40% to 60% of patients who suffer from the
condition".
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Ghosts in a machine
What is it that triggers the brain to produce a religious
experience?
Jerome Burne investigates
March 05, 2005
Jim lives in California and hes into an extreme sport. But hes not testing
his limits with gravity or exhaustion. His equipment consists of a darkened
room, a blindfold, heavy-duty earplugs and eight magnetic coils, linked to a
PC and attached to his head with a Velcro headband.
Jims arena is inner space. The envelope hes pushing is consciousness,
using a set of experiences more commonly thought of as religious or
spiritual. The coils and computer program, known as a Shakti headset,
transmit magnetic pulses that stimulate regions of his brain linked with
altered states of consciousness. At various times over the past year, Jim
claims to have had out-of-body experiences, felt a state of oceanic bliss
and sensed presences near by.
Next weekend the inventor of the Shakti headset, Todd Murphy, will be one of
the speakers at the Religion, Art and the Brain festival in Winchester,
along with Sufi dancers, the music of John Tavener, psychologists,
neuroscientists and pharmacologists. The focus of their talks will be: The
evolution, experience and expression of the religious impulse what
triggers the brain to produce it and why?
For years brain researchers shied away from exotic experiences such as
hallucinations, near-death experiences or intimations of the divine, on
the grounds that there was no way to study them scientifically. But as
consciousness has become an academically respectable topic, it has become
harder to ignore altered states. If memory and imagination can be linked
to the activity of groups of neurons, couldn t the experience of being at
one with the universe just be the result of brain cells firing?
Traditionally, one of the ways to stimulate these experiences has been with
hallucinatory or psychedelic herbs and drugs a route that has been
declared legally off-limits for individuals and researchers since the 1960s.
But that is changing, too. Recently licences have been granted in the USA to
study the medical benefits of using such outlawed drugs as Ecstasy and the
peyote mushroom to treat psychological conditions such as post-traumatic
stress disorder and obsessive-compulsive disorder.
It may be a sign of the times that just before Christmas the US Supreme
Court ruled that members of the New Mexico branch of a Brazilian church,
Uniao Do Vegetal, should be allowed to use the hallucinatory herbal
concoction ayahuasca in ceremonies. Ayahuasca has long been used by South
American shamans and is renowned for the snake visions it induces.
The poet Allen Ginsberg tried it in the 1950s in an attempt to expand his
consciousness. I rushed out and began vomiting, he wrote, all covered
with snakes, like a Snake Seraph, coloured serpents in an aureole around my
body, I felt like a snake vomiting out the universe.
Uncovering how a complex chemical stew triggers something as specific as
serpentine visions would be a daunting scientific challenge, let alone
identifying precisely which regions of the brain were involved. But for at
least 100 years neurologists have been recording the bizarrely detailed
altered states produced by very specific activity in the brains of
epileptics. Recently, observations on epileptics have provided clues to the
neural mechanism underlying out-of-body experiences (OBEs).
I was in bed and about to fall asleep when I had the distinct impression
that I was at ceiling level looking down at my body, began an article in
the British Medical Journal last December. According to the author, Olaf
Blanke, a the Swiss neuroscientist, 10 per cent of people experience OBEs
but because epileptics, who have them as part of their seizures, keep on
having them, it is possible to identify the brain regions involved. He
concluded that they are the results of an interference with the tempro-parietal
junction of the brain. This is the place, on both sides of the head, where
two brain regions controlling vision and spatial awareness meet.
The discovery that the uncontrolled firings of neurons in epileptics brains
can trigger a range of altered states inspired Dr Michael Persinger, a
neuropsychologist at the Laurentian University in Ontario, to see if he
could replicate them in his laboratory by stimulating subjects temporal
lobes with magnetic impulses. He designed and built Room C002B, otherwise
known as the Heaven and Hell chamber, back in the mid-Eighties , in which
over 1,000 subjects have now been induced to experience ghostly presences.
Persingers chamber one of whose visitors was the British arch-atheist
Professor Richard Dawkins (he experienced nothing) is what might be called
a mainframe version of the portable Shakti equipment that Todd Murphy will
be demonstrating at the conference.
What others have experienced in Room C002B depended on their cultural or
religious beliefs. Some saw Jesus, the Virgin Mary, Muhammad, or the Sky
Spirit. Others, with more than a passing faith in UFOs, tell of something
that sounds more like a standard alien-abduction story.
The radical element of the Shakti headset is that it puts brain stimulation
back in the hands of the individual rather than being something done to
people in a lab. This may be the way of the future. As an American
chronicler in this field, John Horgan, has remarked: Trying to understand
mystical experiences without having one, is like a eunuch trying to
understand sex.
So far Murphy has sold about 100 headsets at about 130 each, including
accessories, mainly to men aged 40 to 60 who are interested in general
consciousness exploration. Most of them are not looking for extreme
experiences like Jim. Instead, Murphy says: They just want to feel better
or to deepen regular spiritual practices like meditation.
Apparently, this particular route to religious experience isnt so popular
with women, who make up only about 15 per cent of his clients.
Now that religious experiences are edging into mainstream neuroscience,
theories about what is going on are coming thick and fast. Dr Andrew
Newberg, of the University of Pennsylvania School of Medicine, for instance,
believes that the patterns of activity that show up on the brain scans of
people praying or meditating fit well with the sort of experiences they
report.
The deeper the meditation, he says, the more active are the areas involved
with both attention and powerful emotions. At the same time, an area at the
back of the brain that orients you in time and space quietens down. The
result is that the boundaries of the self fall away, creating an intense
feeling of being at one with the universe, he says.
So the big question for the conference becomes: Is the whole human range of
spiritual and paranormal experiences no more than unusual patterns of brain
activity? Persinger and Murphy seem to disagree on this one.
Persinger was quoted recently in Time magazine as saying that: God is an
artefact of the brain, while Murphy, interviewed for this article, was keen
to emphasise that his aim was to enhance spirituality, not to replace it.
Rita Carter, a scientific advisor to the festival and author of a popular
book on neuroscience entitled Mapping the Mind, has described an occasion
when she became at one with the gas fire and then the whole room and
finally the entire universe. So was this no more than unstable temporal
lobes in the same way that epilepsy is thought to be caused by instability
in the brain or was there more to it than that?
What researchers are finding is that there seem to be common brain pathways
underlying all transcendental experiences, she says. Its the cultural
interpretations that vary. But whats really challenging is that the
research evidence is very strong that what we think of normal everyday
reality is actually a construction of the brain.
However, it is quite clear that the brain is also able to construct a
version of reality that is quite unlike the survival-orientated normal,
one. Now why on earth should it have evolved to do that and why is our
culture so dead set against exploring it?
Further reading: Rational Mysticism: Dispatches from the Border between
Science and Spirituality, by John Horgan (Mariner Books)
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Tests of faith
Religion may be a survival mechanism. So are we born to believe?
Ian Sample
Thursday February 24 2005
The Guardian
First for some figures. Last year, an ICM poll found 85% of Americans
believe that God created the universe. In Nigeria, 98% claimed always to
have believed in God, while nine out of 10 Indonesians said they would die
for their God or religious beliefs. Last month, a survey by the market
research bureau of Ireland found 87% of the population believe in God.
Rather than rocking their faith, 19% said tragedies such as the Asian
tsunami, which killed 300,000 people, bolstered their belief. Polls have
their faults, but if the figures are even remotely right they illustrate the
prevalence of faith in the modern world.
Faith has long been a puzzle for science, and it's no surprise why. By
definition, faith demands belief without a need for supporting evidence, a
concept that could not be more opposed to the principles of scientific
inquiry. In the eyes of the scientist, an absence of evidence reduces belief
to a hunch. It places the assumptions at the heart of many religions on the
rockiest of ground.
So why do so many people believe? And why has belief proved so resilient as
scientific progress unravels the mysteries of plagues, floods, earthquakes
and our understanding of the universe? By injecting nuns with radioactive
chemicals, by scanning the brains of people with epilepsy and studying
naughty children, scientists are now working out why. When the evidence is
pieced together, it seems that evolution prepared what society later
moulded: a brain to believe.
One factor in the development of religious belief was the rapid expansion of
our brains as we emerged as a species, says Todd Murphy, a behavioural
neuroscientist at Laurentian University in Canada. As the frontal and
temporal lobes grew larger, our ability to extrapolate into the future and
form memories developed. "When this happened, we acquired some very new and
dramatic cognitive skills. For example, we could see a dead body and see
ourselves in that position one day. We could think 'That's going to be me,'"
he says. That awareness of impending death prompted questions: why are we
here? What happens when we die? Answers were needed.
As well as providing succour for those troubled by the existential dilemma,
religion, or at least a primitive spirituality, would have played another
important role as human societies developed. By providing contexts for a
moral code, religious beliefs encouraged bonding within groups, which in
turn bolstered the group's chances of survival, says Pascal Boyer, an
anthropologist turned psychologist at Washington University in St Louis,
Missouri. Some believe that religion was so successful in improving group
survival that a tendency to believe was positively selected for in our
evolutionary history. Others maintain that religious belief is too modern to
have made any difference.
"What I find more plausible is that rather than religion itself offering any
advantage in evolutionary terms, it's a byproduct of other cognitive
capacities we evolved, which did have advantages," says Boyer.
Psychological tests Boyer has run on children go some way to proving our
natural tendency to believe. "If you look at three- to five-year-olds, when
they do something naughty, they have an intuition that everyone knows
they've been naughty, regardless of whether they have seen or heard what
they've done. It's a false belief, but it's good preparation for belief in
an entity that is moral and knows everything," he says. "The idea of
invisible agents with a moral dimension who are watching you is highly
attention-grabbing to us."
Childish belief is one thing, but religious belief is embraced by people of
all ages and is by no means the preserve of the uneducated. According to
Boyer, the persistence of belief into adulthood is at least in part down
to a presumption. "When you're in a belief system, it's not that you stop
asking questions, it's that they become irrelevant. Why don't you ask
yourself about the existence of gravity? It's because a lot of the stuff you
do every day presupposes it and it seems to work, so where's the motivation
to question it?" he says. "In belief systems, you tend to enter this strange
state where you start thinking there must be something to it because
everybody around you is committed to it. The general question of whether
it's true is relegated."
While some continue to tease out the reasons for the emergence of religion
and its persistent appeal, others are delving into the neuroscience of
belief in the hope of finding a biological basis for religious experience.
As a starting point, many studies focused on people with particular neural
conditions that made them prone to experiences so intense, they considered
them to be visions of God.
At the University of California in San Diego, neuroscientist VS Ramachandran
noticed that a disproportionate number of patients - around a quarter - with
a condition called temporal lobe epilepsy reported having deeply moving
religious experiences. "They'd tell me they felt a presence or suddenly felt
they got the meaning of the whole cosmos. And these could be life-changing
experiences," says Ramachandran. The feelings always came during seizures,
even if the seizures were so mild, they could only be detected by sensitive
electroencephalograms (EEGs). Between the seizures, some patients became
preoccupied with thoughts about God.
Ramachandran drew up three explanations he thought might explain why the
patients with epilepsy seemed so spiritual. First, he considered that the
upwelling of emotion caused by the seizure might simply overwhelm, and
patients made sense of it by believing that something extremely spiritual
was going on. Second, the seizure might prompt the left hemisphere to make
up yarns to account for seemingly inexplicable emotions. The ability of the
brain's left hemisphere to "confabulate" like this is well known to
neuroscientists. Third, he wondered whether seizures disrupted the function
of part of the brain called the amygdala which, among other tasks, helps us
focus on what is significant while allowing us to ignore the trivial.
Ramachandran decided to test a couple of patients using what is called the
galvanic skin response. Two electrodes are used to measure tiny changes in
the skin's electrical conductivity, an indirect measure of sweating. In most
people, conductivity goes up when they are shown violent or sexual pictures,
or similarly loaded words. In the test, Ramachandran found that patients
with temporal lobe epilepsy responded very differently from others. Violent
words such as "beat" and sexual words produced not a flicker, but religious
icons and the word "God" evoked a big response.
With only two patients involved in the study, Ramachandran says it is
impossible to draw any conclusions, but if the results stand up to future
testing, it might indicate that seizures in the temporal lobe strengthen
certain neural pathways connected to the amygdala, meaning we attribute
significance to the banal objects and occurrences. "If those pathways all
strengthen indiscriminately, everything and anything acquires a deep
significance, and when that happens, it starts resembling a religious
experience," he says. "And if we can selectively enhance religious
sentiments, then that seems to imply there is neural circuitry whose
activity is conducive to religious belief. It's not that we have some God
module in our brains, but we may have specialised circuits for belief."
At the University of Pennsylvania, radiologist Andrew Newberg has cast a
wider net to scan the brains of people performing all manner of spiritual
activities. By injecting radioactive tracers into the veins of nuns,
Buddhists and others, he has constructed brain maps that show how different
practices affect neural processing. "What comes out is there's a complex
network in the brain and depending on what you do, it is activated in
different ways," says Newberg. "If someone does Tibetan Buddhist mediation
they'll activate certain parts of their brain, but if you have a nun praying
they'll activate slightly different parts, with someone doing transcendental
mediation activating other areas again."
Newberg uncovered the neural processing behind the religious experience of
"oneness" with the universe. Blood flow drops off in the parietal lobe, a
brain structure that helps us orient ourselves by giving us a sense of
ourselves. "We think this latter step is critical," says Newberg. "What
seems to be happening is that as you block sensory information getting into
the parietal lobe, it keeps trying to give you a sense of self, but it no
longer has the information to do so. If that happens completely, you might
get this absolute feeling of oneness."
Newberg has been criticised for his investigations into the essence of
spiritual experience - the most vehement attacks coming from atheists. "Some
people want me to say whether God is there or not, but these experiments
can't answer that. If I scan a nun and she has the experience of being in
the presence of God, I can tell you what's going on in her brain, but I
can't tell you whether or not God is there," he says. Religious groups point
out that there is more to religion than extreme experiences. It is a
criticism Newberg acknowledges. "The problem is, the people who have these
experiences are so much easier to study," he says.
As neuroscientists unpick the biological mechanisms behind religious
experience, others are considering what to do with the information. At
Laurentian University, Todd Murphy and Michael Persinger are developing
devices they think can stimulate parts of the brain to enhance spiritual
experiences. Others see the possibility for drugs designed to boost
spirituality. Newberg says this would be underpinning a practice that has
existed for hundreds of years with scientific understanding. "If you talk to
a shamen who takes a substance so they can enter into the spirit world, they
don't think that diminishes the experience in any way," he says.
Intriguingly, many scientists, while stressing that they have set out to
explore religion rather than disprove its basis, say that no matter what
they uncover about the nature of spiritual experiences, mass religious
belief will continue. The fastest growing religions in the US are the Mormon
church and Scientology, both popular, according to Boyer largely because
they are new. In other parts of the world, more fundamentalist religions
succeed because they give a clear vision of the world.
"For two centuries, there's been competition between churches and in the
free market of religion, the products get better and better as people want
different things," says Boyer. "Will science be the death of religion? As
neuroscience, it's interesting to see how brains can create very strange
states of consciousness, but in terms of threatening religion, I think it'll
have absolutely no effect."
Further reading
Darwin's Cathedral , University of Chicago Press, ISBN 0226901351
David Sloan-Wilson argues religion is evolution at work
Religion Explained ,Vintage, ISBN 0099282763
Pascal Boyer on religion as a tool for social integrity
Brain-wise Bradford Book, ISBN 026203301
Patricia Smith Churchland on the neural basis of religion
What Is Good? ,Weidenfeld & Nicolson, ISBN 0297841327
AC Grayling on humanity's search for a moral code
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We are the final frontier
Copernicus, Darwin, Crick and Watson changed the way people
see themselves. Ian Sample asks leading scientists what comes next
Ian Sample
Thursday February 10, 2005
Guardian
Humans have always thought of themselves as special, and with good reason.
As far as we know, we are alone in the universe in churning out great works
of art and literature, in formulating the laws of physics, and in creating
the spectacle that is morris dancing.
But our view of ourselves as the pinnacle of life has suffered huge blows at
the hands of science. Every now and again comes an idea so revolutionary
that it rocks the foundations on which our hubris is built.
At the University of San Diego, California, VS Ramachandran, director of the
Centre for Brain and Cognition, points to three major upheavals in
scientific thinking that have served to remind us that we are not so special
after all. First came the Copernican revolution in the 16th century. The
Polish astronomer Nicolaus Copernicus argued that the Earth was not at the
centre of the solar system. Instead, he relegated our planet to one of many
orbiting the sun.
Copernicus wasn't the first to come up with a heliocentric model of the
solar system, but his description was backed up with mathematics that meant
it was taken far more seriously. "At once, the whole notion that Earth was
special was rendered obsolete and that must have been pretty humbling," says
Ramachandran.
If Copernicus ruffled feathers by saying the Earth wasn't special, Charles
Darwin got personal more than 300 years later by implying that humans
weren't special either. With the publication of On the Origin of Species,
Darwin promoted his theory of evolution via natural selection, immediately
suggesting that humans were just another kind of animal. "It meant we
weren't the crowning glory of evolution, we were just hairless apes that
happened to be slightly cleverer than our cousins," says Ramachandran. "It
was a great shock. Victorian women fainted when they heard about it."
Nearly a century later, two Cambridge-based scientists, James Watson and
Francis Crick, unravelled the structure of DNA. According to Ramachandran,
it led to a further challenge to human arrogance. We were, in short, simply
vessels of self-replicating molecules, whose only purpose was to pass them
on to another generation.
So what's next? What will be the fourth revolution? And will it, like those
before, force us to question once more what it means to be human? To find
out, Life put the question to some of the world's top scientists.
The leading candidates for the next revolution are enthralling, depressing
and mind-boggling. Seth Shostak, of the alien-hunting Seti organisation in
California, believes that we will become the first species to invent our
successor, intentionally demoting ourselves to intellectual second fiddle.
Others say we will finally understand the workings of the mind, and with it
grasp fully the nature of self. Michio Kaku, a theoretical physicist at the
City University of New York, believes that we will discover parallel
universes, perhaps floating just inches away from our own. Elvis Presley
might even be alive and well in one of them, he says. The Oxford University
neuroscientist Susan Greenfield sees a bleak future. We will see a melding
of man and machine, she says, leading to the demise of the individual.
Whatever shape the next revolution takes, it may help humans to understand
their condition rather than knock it down further. "The big question is
why these revolutions don't make us profoundly sad. We're reduced to bags of
chemicals with no free will, living on a normal planet, but people still
find that exciting," says Ramachandran. "I think it's because with greater
understanding, we see ourselves as part of some grander scheme. We're part
of something larger than ourselves and once we identify with that, it is not
degrading, it's ennobling."
'We will invent our successors'
Seth Shostak, senior astronomer, Seti Institute, California
The amount of computing power you can buy for 1,000 doubles every 18
months. It's hardly speculative to declare that by 2020, your desktop will
have more operational horsepower than a human brain.
Many people who work in the field of machine intelligence believe that, with
the right arrangement of hardware and software, you really can build a
thinking machine. Not just a device that beats everyone at chess: a machine
that can write fiction, do physics research, or be amusing at parties. If
you doubt this, then you are forced to concede that there's something
miraculous going on under our hats. Is there some good reason that one organ
of the body - the one in your skull - has a function that can't be
replicated? That's hubris of a fine sort; a kind of self-defence concocted
by the very organ under examination.
It strikes me as likely that, sometime this century, we will build a
thinking computer. That machine will run the planet. Competitive pressures
will ensure this (if we don't have a machine running our society, we'll fall
behind those that do). We will no longer be the smartest things on Earth.
Our mantle of superiority will be donned by our own creations.
Then what? Will the machines get rid of us? A machine that dwarfs our
intelligence might regard us as we regard budgies or goldfish: diverting.
Our role as second intellectual fiddle may be to serve as pets for the
sentients in charge.
All of this would be dismaying enough if it were merely a science fiction
story. But I suspect that the first steps will be taken by mid-century. We
could well be the last generation of humans to dominate Earth.
'We will understand the human mind'
John Sulston, founder of the Sanger Institute, Cambridge
Along with the late Francis Crick (see The Astonishing Hypothesis), and many
others, I expect that in the coming century we shall understand in a general
way how the human brain gives rise to what we perceive as the human mind.
The solution will be interesting, very complex, but not in the end
mysterious. It will be a great philosophical challenge to take on board, but
we shall succeed because of our tremendous ability to adapt.
We should not be humbled by any of these revolutions. We should rather feel,
first, a modest pride in our ability to achieve such understanding, and more
importantly, a huge sense of collective responsibility in what we do with
it. A humility that disclaims responsibility for its actions is dangerous,
and offers a real risk that our wonderful journey of exploring the universe
will be cut off just as we are beginning in earnest.
'The existence of parallel universes'
Michio Kaku, theoretical physicist, the City University of New York
The next revolution will be proof of the existence of the multiverse. Think
of fish in a very shallow pond. They live in a two-dimensional world and
feel comfortable swimming forward, backwards, left and right. But there are
other ponds, and in some they could swim up and down, too.
Physicists believe that we spend our lives in a little pond of three
dimensions, thinking smugly that's all there is, but there are other ponds
out there. These universes might be right next to us, perhaps hovering
inches above our own.
Some of these universes could look just like ours. I've been asked if Elvis
Presley is alive in one of these parallel universes and it cannot be
dismissed. Maybe Elvis Presley is still alive in a parallel universe and, as
outrageous as it sounds, we physicists actively discuss these kinds of
questions. It's mind-boggling.
'We will change our genetic makeup'
Norbert Gleicher, director of the Centre for Human Reproduction, Chicago
The next revolution will come from a combination of huge advances in
genetics and stem cell research. It will lead to a more egalitarian society.
Assuming that all humanity has access to these advances, everybody will
benefit from regenerative medicine, which means we'll cure disease at an
accelerated rate, we'll live longer and finally we'll be able to affect our
genetic makeup. Once we can affect our genetic makeup we'll become more
similar to one another because everybody will want the same thing.
We are not at the point yet where we can define genetically what makes
Michael Jordan the greatest basketball player that ever lived, but
theoretically, in the not too distant future, we'll understand what it was
in the genetic makeup that made him such a talent. While genetics is not
everything, we will be in a position to say that if somebody has these
genes, that person's ability to jump or play music, or do other things will
be advanced.
Once we identify the genetic background for any kind of human capability, we
can, at least theoretically, manipulate the genetic makeup of humans by
substituting that genetic background into the makeup of the person. It
raises huge ethical issues.
There are strong voices in the community who do not wish mankind to achieve
these abilities. But we're in an accelerated evolutionary phase and I don't
think it can be stopped.
'We will find out if we are alone'
Colin Pillinger, head of planetary and space sciences, Open University
The question I think we have the best chance of answering is, are we alone?
Only 17% of people believe that we are unique; the other 83% believe that we
can't possibly be the only ones. Look at the elements that are most abundant
in the cosmos: hydrogen, helium and oxygen, making the most common compound
water. Next come carbon and nitrogen. So, four out of the five most common
elements throughout the cosmos can make the organic compounds we all know
and love. That says to me that life is an accident waiting to happen. We
would be completely and utterly arrogant to think that life hasn't
originated elsewhere in this great cosmos.
What would be really fascinating would be if we were to go to another planet
and find life based on another code, other than DNA. That would really be
wiz-bang stuff.
How can we answer the question? We have to rule out receiving a message at
one of our radio telescopes saying: "Excuse me, hello, we're calling from
somewhere in the distant universe to let you know we're here."
We don't have the telescopes to check for life on planets round distant
stars, so the first step is finding out if there is life in the solar
system. How long until we discover that? In 2009, if they let me launch
Beagle 3.
'Humans become a collective intelligence'
John Barrow, professor of mathematical sciences and author of The Infinite
Book, Cambridge University
We as a species have entered a new phase of evolution with the appearance of
the world wide web. We share information collectively. You can find out
almost anything you want to know at the click of a button, and this happened
suddenly, nobody predicted it. This is a collectivisation of human
information.
Once you start to act with other people, you can do things you couldn't do
as an individual. You become a connected intelligence and just like joining
computers together, that increases your effectiveness and power. Most people
rely on the web for information to the extent that the memorisation of facts
and figures and information is no longer required. In some ways, it's
probably not a good thing, but it's how it is. For scientists, it means the
world is now one giant research group.
'We'll understand thoughts and feelings'
Steven Pinker, professor of psychology, Harvard University
My choice would be what the late Francis Crick called "the astonishing
hypothesis" - the idea all our thoughts and feelings consist in
physiological activity in tissues of the brain, rather than in an immaterial
soul. Thinking is neural computation; wanting and trying are neural
cybernetics (feedback systems, like your thermostat). All this means that
humans are not special in having an essence that is separate from the
material universe. It means no life after death. That, in turn, means no
divine rewards or punishments in a world to come. It means that our minds,
not just our bodies, were descended from those of apes and shaped by the
morally indifferent forces of natural selection. It means that
responsibility can't be equated with the notion of free will, if free will
is conceived as autonomous choice utterly disconnected from any chain of
cause and effect. It means that we may acquire new technologies to enhance
mood, memory, thinking and personality by chemical means. It will take some
time for many people to readjust their notions of meaning and morality to
this revolution from cognitive neuroscience and evolutionary psychology.
'The end of the individual'
Susan Greenfield, neuroscientist, Oxford University
The merging of carbon and silicon systems, such as the growing of neurons in
integrated circuits, could be the next revolution. It would challenge our
whole notion of living versus innate things. Many new technologies could
lead for the first time to a "de-individualisation". Up until now,
especially in the west, there's been an emphasis on nurturing the
individual. This rise and rise of the individual might be the natural
consequence of 20th century so-called progress, but the new revolution will
challenge that for the first time. If you're constantly in front of a
computer screen, you're the passive recipient of lots of information. You're
just a consumer, living at that moment, having an experience, pressing
buttons and reacting, but not having a life narrative any more. You're not
defined by your family, or by what you know, or by specific events in the
real world, because most of your time is spent in cyberspace. So what are
you? Could it be that we just become nodes on a much larger collective
thought machine?
'What if God lives in a part of our brain?'
Nancy Rothwell, neuroscientist at Manchester University
The previous revolutions haven't necessarily made our place less
significant. We are just discovering the complexity of the natural world.
The fact we can begin to understand these concepts at all shows how advanced
we are.
A breakthrough would be in understanding the complex functions of the brain,
emotions, consciousness and imagination and how they are formed. We might
even find that there is a biological basis for religion. Suppose we
discovered that God "lived" in a particular part of the brain, and that
religion was a biological function which had evolved to help us through
difficult times. It's not impossible. For some, it would be fascinating and
curious, for others it would just be dismissed. But others might find it
very difficult indeed - it would shake their world.
'What it means to be a person'
V S Ramachandran, director of the Center for Brain and Cognition at the
University of California at San Diego
The next revolution will be understanding the organ that made all the
previous revolutions possible. Your mind, your ambitions, your love life,
even what you regard as yourself, all of it is the activity of little wisps
of jelly in your head. Once we figure out the code, that's going to be a big
revolution and another humbling experience. The ultimate triumph of the
human mind is to understand what the mind is.
We'll understand what it means to will an action, what it means to be a
person, what is the self. People say that if you know all that, it'll be
terrible, but just because you know the rules, it doesn't mean that you can
predict what everyone's going to do. That may happen some day, but in the
next hundred years, we'll just know the ground rules. Knowing the laws of
physics doesn't tell you exactly how a wave is going to break when it hits
the shore.
How did the mind emerge from this jelly? Once we figure that out, we'll have
a more mature understanding of the relation between mind and brain, and the
nature of the self, which I think is the last great frontier.
'Conscious machines'
Igor Aleksander, professor of neural systems engineering at Imperial College
London
I think the next big revolution will be machine consciousness. There are
buzzes in our head which are neurons firing away to give us a sensation of
the world and our place within it. There must be a way of replicating that.
The assumption that as soon as you've made a conscious machine, you've made
an evil machine, is absolute rot. If a machine is truly conscious, it'll be
conscious of missions it's been given. A conscious machine will be aware of
its own mission without worrying too much about trying to take over the
world.
If we come up with something that's conscious, it'll be unimpressive. The
things we'll build, even if they have mechanisms of consciousness inside
them, may not be that much better than what we have around already. But if
you take the classical idea of the mind and the body, that's going to take a
knock. It seems the majority of people think consciousness is something
intractable, that we can never understand it. I think we can. Certainly in
10 to 15 years' time, anyone who says consciousness is so mysterious, no
science will ever touch it, will look a fool.
'Higher dimensions'
Lisa Randall, theoretical physicist, Harvard University
We might find out there are more than three dimensions of space. What is
special about three dimensions? We've found that space can have higher
dimensions in some places and lower dimensions where we are, so three
dimensions might just be a peculiar property of where we are.
It's possible that there are extra dimensions and that we live on an object
called a brane, which is a membrane in higher dimensional space. Just like a
bead on a wire that can only move in one direction or the other, it could be
that the three dimensions we see are special because they're the dimensions
along the brane we are on.
We're extremely close to finding out if extra dimensions exist. At Cern, the
Large Hadron Collider will look for particles which will be evidence of
those extra dimensions. A lot of people will struggle with what it means to
have extra dimensions. You can't see them, you can't experience them, so, to
some extent, everyone will be disturbed by it. One amazing thing is that
this expands your imagination.
'Humans are less miraculous than we thought'
Stephen Wolfram, creator of Mathematica and author of A New Kind of Science
The sets of rules, or programs, underlying how humans work are no more
sophisticated than the ones occurring elsewhere in nature.
Nowadays, the most common assumption about the special status of humans is
that it must be something to do with the level of intelligence or complexity
that we exhibit. Intuition tells us that getting the kind of seemingly
sophisticated, rich behaviour we see in humans and society must take a lot
of fundamental rules and ideas. But this may not be the case.
In a computational view of the universe, everything is run according to set
fundamental "programs", analogous to computers carrying out the rules
contained in software programs. But while software programs might be very
complex with several million lines of code, the programs in nature could be
very simple - maybe one line or less.
Even these simple programs seem to produce essentially the same richness
that you would expect in vastly more complicated programs and in the kind of
things that happen in nature. There's a whole universe of these possible
simple programs and we have only had experience with, and studied in detail,
a very small collection of them.
If it's possible to get so much from so little, we get to hold in our hands
the very rules of the universe. Which means that there's nothing about the
universe that is fundamentally beyond human understanding.
On the other hand, it perhaps seems a little unfortunate that there's
nothing more. There's nothing miraculous that can go on in our universe or,
more importantly, in humans.
Interviews by Ian Sample, David Adam, Alok Jha and Simon Rogers
Three lessons in humility
Science has a way of painting God out of the picture, and putting humankind
in its place. Nicolas Copernicus launched the Copernican revolution in about
1530: Galileo continued it; Isaac Newton completed it more than a century
later. It began innocently, when Copernicus tried to make a timetable for
the positions of the planets. The calculations added up best if he assumed
that the sun was the centre of the universe and that the Earth, like Mars,
Venus and Jupiter, was just another planet. This upset the Ptolemaic scheme,
which for more than a thousand years placed the Earth at the centre.
Christian theology also had the Earth at the centre. So Copernicus offended
both the Catholic Church (which listed his book as banned until 1835) and
the reformer Martin Luther. Cosmologists now talk of the Copernican
principle, which is that there is nothing special about planet Earth, in
space or time. Humans are just little specks of sentience on an accidental
planet in a corner of the cosmos.
The Darwinian revolution, too, was a 100-year story, and it began long
before Darwin. Religious orthodoxy called for a young universe, specially
created with its present inhabitants. But miners, canal engineers and
natural philosophers kept finding puzzling evidence of creatures that
existed long before human history.
Geologists such as Hutton and Lyell proposed an ancient Earth, subject to
continuous change. Charles Darwin (and Alfred Russel Wallace, quite
independently) went a stage further: life itself was ancient, and subject to
continuous change, in which random mutations in inheritance were selected or
dismissed by the pressures of the environment. This, too, shocked some
churchmen. But humans now see themselves as just another evolutionary
by-product, cousin to the apes.
The clinching proof of this has been in the DNA revolution, launched 50
years ago. Where did these mutations happen and how were they transmitted?
In 1953, James Watson and Francis Crick began to crack the riddle. They
revealed the structure of a long molecule, detectable in almost every living
cell, which spelled out the genetic code. Comparison of DNA in living humans
provides clues to ancestral kinships. It also confirms that all life is
linked to one last universal common ancestor.
Science has exposed the machinery of creation, and taught humans a lesson in
humility. None of this, however, yet explains why the universe began, or how
and why life started in the first place, seemingly only on one planet.
|
'We Can Implant Entirely False
Memories'
Laura Spinney on our remembrance of things past...
The Guardian - UK, 12-7-3
You were abducted by aliens, you saw Bugs Bunny at Disneyland,
and then you went up in a balloon. Didn't you?
Alan Alda had nothing against hard-boiled eggs until last spring. Then the
actor, better known as Hawkeye from M*A*S*H, paid a visit to the
University of California, Irvine. In his new guise
as host of a science series on American TV, he was
exploring the subject of memory. The researchers showed
him round, and afterwards took him for a picnic in the park. By the
time he came to leave, he had developed a dislike
of hard-boiled eggs based on a memory of having
made himself sick on them as a child - something that never
happened.
Alda was the unwitting guinea pig of Elizabeth Loftus, a UCI psychologist
who has been obsessed with the subject of memory and its
unreliability since Richard Nixon was sworn in as
president. Early on in her research, she would
invite people into her lab, show them simulated traffic accidents, feed them
false information and leading questions, and find that they
subsequently recalled details of the scene
differently - a finding that has since been
replicated hundreds of times.
More recently, she has come to believe that lab studies may underestimate
people's suggestibility because, among other things, real life tends
to be more emotionally arousing than simulations
of it. So these days she takes her investigations
outside the lab. In a study soon to be published, she and
colleagues describe how a little misinformation led witnesses of a
terrorist attack in Moscow in 1999 to recall
seeing wounded animals nearby. Later, they were
informed that there had been no animals. But before the
debriefing, they even embellished the false memory with make-believe
details, in one case testifying to seeing a bleeding cat lying in the
dust.
"We can easily distort memories for the details of an event that you did
experience," says Loftus. "And we can also go so far as to plant
entirely false memories - we call them rich false
memories because they are so detailed and so big."
She has persuaded people to adopt false but plausible memories - for
instance, that at the age of five or six they had the distressing
experience of being lost in a shopping mall - as
well as implausible ones: memories of witnessing
demonic possession, or an encounter with Bugs Bunny at
Disneyland. Bugs Bunny is a Warner Brothers character, and as the Los
Angeles Times put it earlier this year, "The wascally Warner Bros.
Wabbit would be awwested on sight", at
Disney.
Elizabeth Loftus' research has obvious implications for the reliability of
eyewitness testimony. And it was as a result of her findings that in
1994 she co-wrote her book, The Myth of Repressed
Memory, and took a strong stand in the recovered
memory debate of the 90s, for which she was reviled by
those who claimed to have uncovered repressed memories of abuse -
alien, sexual or otherwise.
The American Psychological Association (APA) now takes the line that most
people who were sexually abused as children remember all or part of
what happened to them, and that it is rare (though
not unheard of) that people forget such
emotionally charged events and later recover them. But it states
that, "Concerning the issue of a recovered versus a pseudomemory,
like many questions in science, the final answer
is yet to be known." And the debate simmers on.
Several new lines of evidence suggest that the interaction
between memory and emotion is more complex than was thought. Powerful
emotions, it seems, can both reinforce and weaken real memories. We
may be able to actively degrade painful memories.
And false memories, once accepted, can themselves
elicit strong emotions and thereby mimic real ones.
To try to tease apart these complex relationships, the psychologist Daniel
Wright and his colleagues at the University of Sussex have been
looking into what it is that makes some people
more susceptible to false memories than others. On
average, studies show that around a third of those subjected to
the "misinformation effect" wholly or
partially adopt a false memory, but it seems to
depend on both the person and the memory. Alan Alda swallowed the
hard-boiled egg story, to the extent that he declined to eat one at
the UCI picnic, but he wasn't taken in by Bugs
Bunny in Disneyland. In one study published last
year, 50% of volunteers were persuaded they had taken a ride
in a hot-air balloon when they had not. But when Kathy Pezdek of the
Claremont Graduate University, California, tried to make people
believe they had received a rectal enema, she met
with almost universal resistance.
Amid all this variability, Wright's group did find one significant
correlation - though it was not dramatic: those who were more vulnerable to
false memories also tended to suffer more frequent
lapses in attention and memory. The trouble is, he
says, "People who have been traumatised also tend to
score higher on tests of lapses in memory." Their traumatic
experiences may contribute to their forgetfulness,
but their forgetfulness may lay them open to
memory distortion - so true and false become harder to disentangle.
Among the symptoms suffered by victims of post-traumatic stress disorder
(PTSD) are chilling flashbacks. But, says Michael Anderson of the
University of Oregon, "People who suffer PTSD
represent a very small fraction of the people who
experience trauma. The great majority of people who experience
trauma never develop PTSD and eventually are able to adapt in the
face of these events." He argues that they do so
by suppressing the memory, and that this
suppression gradually erases it.
Two years ago, Anderson's group showed that people who deliberately try to
keep a word out of their mind find it harder to recall later than if
they had not suppressed it. Counter- intuitively,
this form of forgetting seems more likely to occur
when people are confronted by reminders of the very
memory they want to avoid. Anderson says an extreme example of this
might be a child who is forced to live with an
abusing care-giver, and must put the memory of
abuse to one side in order to interact with that care-giver. "If
people continue to work at it, the amount of forgetting grows with
repetition and time," he says.
At the annual meeting of the US Society for Neuroscience in New Orleans last
month, Anderson's group presented new data on how this "motivated
forgetting" might arise in the brain. When people tried to suppress
memories for certain words while having their
brains scanned in a magnetic resonance imaging
machine, not only did the researchers see a dampening of activity in
the hippocampus, a structure known to be critical for memory
formation, but the frontal cortex was highly
active. Since the frontal cortex is important for
conscious control, they believe that neurons here may be suppressing the
representation of the unwanted word in the hippocampus, and in the
process impairing its memory.
However, Anderson admits that his experiments ignore the effect of a
memory's emotional intensity on a person's ability to suppress it.
And there is plenty of evidence that memory for
emotionally charged events can be enhanced -
albeit at a cost. Also last month, Bryan Strange of the Wellcome
department of imaging neuroscience at University College London and
colleagues showed that people were more likely to remember a word if
it was emotionally arousing - "murder" or
"scream", say - than if it was neutral. And the
words most likely to be forgotten were neutral ones presented just
before emotionally arousing ones. The effect was more pronounced in
women than in men, and both the enhanced memory
for the emotional word and the forgettability of
the preceding neutral one could be reversed by dosing the
volunteers in advance with the drug propranolol.
Propranolol, a commonly prescribed beta-blocker, interferes with the
neurochemical pathway thought to be responsible for making
emotionally arousing events more memorable - the
beta-adrenergic system - and it has already been
used experimentally in the treatment of patients with PTSD. In
one study, published in October, Guillaume Vaiva of the University of
Lille and colleagues offered prop- ranolol to
victims of assault or motor accidents shortly
after their traumatic experience, and then invited them
back for psychological testing two months later. On their return,
almost all the patients exhibited some symptoms
associated with PTSD, but they were twice as
severe among those who had not taken the drug.
The finding that propranolol can be effective at blocking memory when given
after an event as well as before is important because, as Loftus
explains, "In the real world you can't be there to
exert your manipulations right at the time an
event is happening, but you can get on the scene later." It has
been proposed that propranolol should be offered to victims of rape
as a standard measure to prevent them developing
PTSD. But could it also be used to erase false
memories - for instance, "recovered" memories of alien
abduction - that nevertheless elicit all the physiological responses
associated with harrowing, real memories?
"If the formation of false memories depends on beta-adrenergic activation,
then it would seem very possible that propranolol administration
could affect them," says the UCI neuro- biologist
Larry Cahill, who has also investigated the
effects of the drug in PTSD patients. But Ray Dolan of UCL,
a co-author with Bryan Strange of the study on memory for emotional
words, points out that not all false memories have
a common basis. If they are interpolations into
gaps in memory, such as the gap that opened up before
the presentation of an emotionally arousing word, or possibly the gap
into which Alan Alda inserted a memory of having
over-indulged in eggs, then it is conceivable the
drug would work. But, says Dolan, "Other classes of false
memory, for example, where the memories are fantasies or out-and-out
fabrications, would be immune to propranolol."
The idea of doctors having the power to wipe the memory clean sends shivers
down many people's spines. False memories could safely be erased,
perhaps,
assuming there was a reliable way of differentiating them from true ones.
Although brain-imaging techniques highlight some differences in
patterns of brain activation when a person recalls
a true as opposed to a false memory, these are
statistical differences only. "We are so far away from being able
to use these techniques to reliably classify a single memory as being
real or not real," says Loftus, "Yet that is what
the courts have to do."
True memories, too, can get out of control and become destructive, leading
to PTSD and other anxiety disorders. But they start out as an
important self-defence mechanism - teaching you,
for instance, that too many hard-boiled eggs are
bad for you. Erasing them completely could be
dangerous.
In the end, says Loftus, it will come down to personal choice. "What would
you rather be in the world, sadder but wiser, all too well
remembering the horrors of your past and feeling
depressed, or perhaps not remembering them very
much and being a little happier?"
Further reading
The Myth of Repressed Memory by Dr Elizabeth Loftus and Katherine Ketcham,
1996 paperback (St Martin's Press, New York). ISBN 0312141238
American Psychological Association website with links to questions and
answers about memories of childhood abuse: www.apa.org/pubinfo/
Suppressing unwanted memories by executive control by Michael C Anderson and
Collinn Green, Department of Psychology, University of Oregon, 2001
(Nature, 410 [6826], 366-9)
------------------------------------
Neuroscientists admit that by administering beta-blockers like Propranolol,
they can induce false memories in susceptible people, particularly
those who have suffered a traumatic experience,
(torture) leaving them "open to memory distortion
- so true and false become harder to disentangle" but for what
purpose?
I can't think of a single positive application for 'False Memory Syndrome'
except perhaps - "doctor, make me imagine I tried on a size 10 dress
today, and it fitted" - which would be a real
confidence booster for fat ladies. It could be
used to suppress recollections of a distressing ordeal, but that is
not healthy, it is far better to confront your psychological demons.
However, I can think of numerous scenarios where a false memory could be
implanted for sinister reasons, such as - I was molested by Sai Baba,
when I wasn't, aliens abducted me, when they
didn't, or I killed two schoolgirls, when I
haven't! It could also account for many other misconceptions like,
why Neil Armstrong is convinced he set foot on the lunar surface - or
why George Bush thinks Saddam Hussein was
responsible for September 11th.
Elizabeth Loftus, a UCI psychologist explains, "In the real world you can't
be there to exert your manipulations right at the time an event is
happening, but you can get on the scene later" - when a patsy is in
custody and subjected to "treatment" like Ian
Huntley, who was a perfect candidate, having
previously had a nervous breakdown after wrongful arrest for rape and
is now on trial for murder.
"We can easily distort memories for the details of an event that you did
experience and we can also go so far as to plant entirely false
memories" says Loftus, "we call them rich false
memories because they are so detailed and so big."
Mind-control has come a long way since Nazi concentration camp
experiments, in fact, all the way to South America with Dr. Mengele
and into the USA via the CIA's Operation
Paperclip, where it is now respectable medical
practice.
This means that anyone could be made to admit to anything and no
"confession" can ever be trusted again. So, maybe Bali's "laughing
bomber" wasn't so funny after all - or Moazzam
Begg's ridiculous admission from Camp Delta, of
having planned to spray the Houses of Parliament with anthrax,
because it is so far-fetched and would be no easy feat for an
ordinary father of four from Birmingham.
With 'False Memory Syndrome' at the disposal of "evil geniuses" we are all
"Slobodan Guantanamo" now! Therefore, when you see my face on the
front page with the Headline: - "I PLOTTED TO
THROTTLE THE QUEEN" (with my bare hands, at her
next walkabout) think twice - before congratulating me. Nothing is
what it seems and everything is a lie.
Hazel
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Demon Haunted
Brain
SKEPTIC March, 2002
By Michael Shermer
Occasionally
one of my monthly columns in Scientific American ("Skeptic")
draws an extraordinary amount of mail. The March column, entitled
Demon-Haunted Brain, is one of those. The general criticism was that
just because apparent paranormal phenomena can be
replicated through brain stimulation of various
types does not mean that the paranormal phenomena are
not real. Here is the column, or you can just go to
http://www.sciam.com
and download it there (along with the
latest column on cloning entitled "I Clone" that
includes my analogue to Asimov's three laws of robotics in the "three
laws of cloning"; as well as all past columns)
If the brain
mediates all experience then paranormal phenomena are nothing
more than neuronal events
Five centuries ago demons haunted
our world, with incubi and succubi tormenting
their victims as they lay asleep in their beds. Two centuries ago
spirits haunted our world, with ghosts and ghouls harassing their
sufferers all hours of the night. Last century
aliens haunted our world, with grays and greens
abducting captives out of their beds and whisking them away for
probing and prodding. Today people are experiencing out of body
experiences, floating above their beds, out of
their bedrooms, and even off the planet into
space.
What is going on here? Are these
elusive creatures and mysterious phenomena in our
world or in our minds? New evidence indicates that they are, in fact,
a product of the brain. Neuroscientist Michael Persinger, in his
laboratory at Laurentian University in Sudbury,
Canada, for example, can induce all of these
experiences in subjects by subjecting their temporal lobes to patterns
of magnetic fields (I tried it and had a mild out-of-body
experience).
Similarly, the September 19, 2002
issue of Nature, reported that the Swiss
neuroscientist Olaf Blanke and his colleagues discovered that they could
bring about out-of-body experiences through electrical stimulation of
the right angular gyrus in the temporal lobe of a
43-year old woman suffering from severe epileptic
seizures. In initial mild stimulations she reported
"sinking into the bed" or "falling from a height." More intense
stimulation led her to "see myself lying in bed,
from above, but I only see my legs and lower
trunk." Another stimulation induced "an instantaneous feeling of 'lightness'
and 'floating' about two meters above the bed, close to the ceiling."
In a related study reported in
the 2001 book Why God Won't Go Away,
researchers Andrew Newberg and Eugene D'Aquili found that when Buddhist
monks meditate and Franciscan nuns pray their
brain scans indicate strikingly low activity in
the posterior superior parietal lobe, a region of the brain the
authors have dubbed the Orientation Association Area (OAA), whose job
it is to orient the body in physical space (people
with damage to this area have a difficult time
negotiating their way around a house). When the OAA is booted
up and running smoothly there is a sharp distinction between self and
non-self. When OAA is in sleep mode--as in deep meditation and
prayer--that division breaks down, leading to a
blurring of the lines between reality and fantasy,
between feeling in body and out of body. Perhaps this is what
happens to monks who experience a sense of oneness with the universe,
or with nuns who feel the presence of God, or with
alien abductees floating out of their beds up to
the mother ship.
Sometimes trauma can trigger such
experiences. The December 2001 issue of Lancet
published a Dutch study in which of 344 cardiac patients
resuscitated from clinical death, 12
percent reported near-death experiences, where they
had an out-of-body experience and saw a light at the end of a tunnel.
Some even described speaking to dead relatives.
Since our normal experience is of stimuli coming
into the brain from the outside, when a part of the brain
abnormally generates these illusions another part of the brain
interprets them as external events. Hence, the
abnormal is thought to be the paranormal.
These studies are only the latest
to deliver blows against the belief that mind and
spirit are separate from brain and body. In reality, all experience
is mediated by the brain. Large brain areas like the cortex
coordinate imputes from smaller brain areas such
as the temporal lobes, which themselves collate
neural events from still smaller brain modules like the angular
gyrus. This reduction continues all the way down to the single neuron
level, where highly-selective neurons, sometimes
described as "grandmother" neurons fire only when
subjects see someone they know. Caltech neuroscientists
Christof Koch and Gabriel Kreiman, in conjunction with UCLA
neurosurgeon Itzhak Fried have even found a single
neuron that fires when the subject is shown a
photograph of Bill Clinton. The Monica neuron must be closely
connected.
Of course, we are not aware of
the workings of our own electrochemical systems.
What we actually experience is what philosophers call qualia, or
subjective states of thoughts and feelings that arise from a
concatenation of neural events.
It is the fate of the paranormal
and the supernatural to be subsumed into the
normal and the natural. In fact, there is no paranormal or supernatural;
there is only the normal and the natural--and mysteries yet to be
explained.
It is the job of science, not
pseudoscience, to solve those puzzles with
natural, not supernatural, explanations.
Michael Shermer is publisher of
Skeptic magazine (
www.skeptic.com
) and author of Why People Believe Weird
Things, now in a revised edition.
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Religion And The Brain
From Newsweek magazine, 14 May 2001
(Go to www.msnbc.com/news/566079.asp to
see the associated images and interactives)
In the new field of neurotheology,
scientists seek the biological basis of spirituality.
Is God all in our heads?
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One
Sunday morning in March, 19 years ago, as Dr. James Austin waited for a train in London,
he glanced away from the tracks toward the river Thames. The neurologistwho was
spending a sabbatical year in Englandsaw nothing out of the ordinary: the grimy
Underground station, a few dingy buildings, some pale gray sky. He was thinking, a bit
absent-mindedly, about the Zen Buddhist retreat he was headed toward. And then Austin
suddenly felt a sense of enlightenment unlike anything he had ever experienced. His sense
of individual existence, of separateness from the physical world around him, evaporated
like morning mist in a bright dawn. He saw things as they really are, he
recalls. The sense of I, me, mine disappeared. Time was not
present, he says. I had a sense of eternity. My old yearnings, loathings,
fear of death and insinuations of selfhood vanished. I had been graced by a
comprehension of the ultimate nature of things"
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likebut Austin will not. Rather than interpret his instant of grace as proof of a
reality beyond the comprehension of our senses, much less as proof of a deity, Austin took
it as proof of the existence of the brain. He isnt being smart-alecky.
As a neurologist, he accepts that all we see, hear, feel and think is mediated or created
by the brain. Austins moment in the Underground therefore inspired him to explore
the neurological underpinnings of spiritual and mystical experience. In order to feel that
time, fear and self-consciousness have dissolved, he reasoned, certain brain circuits must
be interrupted. Which ones? Activity in the amygdala, which monitors the environment for
threats and registers fear, must be damped. Parietal-lobe circuits, which orient you in
space and mark the sharp distinction between self and world, must go quiet. Frontal- and
temporal-lobe circuits, which mark time and generate self-awareness, must disengage. When
that happens, Austin concludes in a recent paper, what we think of as our
higher functions of selfhood appear briefly to drop out,
dissolve, or be deleted from consciousness. When he spun out
his theories in 1998, in the 844-page Zen and the Brain, it was published not
by some flaky New Age outfit but by MIT Press. Since then, more and more scientists have
flocked to neurotheology, the study of the neurobiology of religion and
spirituality. Last year the American Psychological Association published Varieties
of Anomalous Experience, covering enigmas from near-death experiences to mystical
ones. At Columbia Universitys new Center for the Study of Science and Religion, one
program investigates how spiritual experiences reflect peculiarly recurrent events
in human brains. In December, the scholarly Journal of Consciousness Studies devoted
its issue to religious moments ranging from Christic visions to shamanic
states of consciousness. In May the book Religion in Mind, tackling
subjects such as how religious practices act back on the brains frontal lobes to
inspire optimism and even creativity, reaches stores. And in Why God Wont Go
Away, published in April, Dr. Andrew Newberg of the University of Pennsylvania and
his late collaborator, Eugene dAquili, use brain-imaging data they collected from
Tibetan Buddhists lost in meditation and from Franciscan nuns deep in prayer to ... well,
what they do involves a lot of neuro-jargon about lobes and fissures. In a nutshell,
though, they use the data to identify what seems to be the brains spirituality
circuit, and to explain how it is that religious rituals have the power to move believers
and nonbelievers alike.
OUTSIDE OF TIME AND SPACE
What all the new research shares is a passion for
uncovering the neurological underpinnings of spiritual and mystical experiencesfor
discovering, in short, what happens in our brains when we sense that we have
encountered a reality different fromand, in some crucial sense, higher thanthe
reality of everyday experience, as psychologist David Wulff of Wheaton College in
Massachusetts puts it. In neurotheology, psychologists and neurologists try to pinpoint
which regions turn on, and which turn off, during experiences that seem to exist outside
time and space. In this way it differs from the rudimentary research of the 1950s and
1960s that found, yeah, brain waves change when you meditate. But that research was silent
on why brain waves change, or which specific regions in the brain lie behind the change.
Neuroimaging of a living, working brain simply didnt exist back then. In contrast,
todays studies try to identify the brain circuits that surge with activity when we
think we have encountered the divine, and when we feel transported by intense prayer, an
uplifting ritual or sacred music. Although the field is brand new and the answers only
tentative, one thing is clear. Spiritual experiences are so consistent across cultures,
across time and across faiths, says Wulff, that it suggest[s] a common core that is
likely a reflection of structures and processes in the human brain.
There was a feeling of energy centered
within me ... going out to infinite space and returning ... There was a relaxing of the
dualistic mind, and an intense feeling of love. I felt a profound letting go of the
boundaries around me, and a connection with some kind of energy and state of being that
had a quality of clarity, transparency and joy. I felt a deep and profound sense of
connection to everything, recognizing that there never was a true separation at all.
That is how Dr. Michael J. Baime, a colleague of Andrew Newbergs at Penn, describes
what he feels at the moment of peak transcendence when he practices Tibetan Buddhist
meditation, as he has since he was 14 in 1969. Baime offered his brain to Newberg, who,
since childhood, had wondered about the mystery of Gods existence. At Penn,
Newbergs specialty is radiology, so he teamed with Eugene dAquili to use
imaging techniques to detect which regions of the brain are active during spiritual
experiences. The scientists recruited Baime and seven other Tibetan Buddhists, all skilled
meditators.
TESTING FOR THE TIMELESS AND INFINITE
In a typical run, Baime settled onto the floor of a
small darkened room, lit only by a few candles and filled with jasmine incense. A string
of twine lay beside him. Concentrating on a mental image, he focused and focused, quieting
his conscious mind (he told the scientists afterward) until something he identifies as his
true inner self emerged. It felt timeless and infinite, Baime said afterward,
a part of everyone and everything in existence. When he reached the
peak of spiritual intensity, he tugged on the twine. Newberg, huddled outside
the room and holding the other end, felt the pull and quickly injected a radioactive
tracer into an IV line that ran into Baimes left arm. After a few moments, he
whisked Baime off to a SPECT (single photon emission computed tomography) machine. By
detecting the tracer, it tracks blood flow in the brain. Blood flow correlates with
neuronal activity.
The SPECT images are as close as scientists have come to snapping a photo of a
transcendent experience. As expected, the prefrontal cortex, seat of attention, lit up:
Baime, after all, was focusing deeply. But it was a quieting of activity that stood out. A
bundle of neurons in the superior parietal lobe, toward the top and back of the brain, had
gone dark. This region, nicknamed the orientation association area, processes
information about space and time, and the orientation of the body in space. It determines
where the body ends and the rest of the world begins. Specifically, the left orientation
area creates the sensation of a physically delimited body; the right orientation area
creates the sense of the physical space in which the body exists. (An injury to this area
can so cripple your ability to maneuver in physical space that you cannot figure the
distance and angles needed to navigate the route to a chair across the room.)
SELF AND NOT-SELF
The orientation area requires sensory input to do its
calculus. If you block sensory inputs to this region, as you do during the intense
concentration of meditation, you prevent the brain from forming the distinction between
self and not-self, says Newberg. With no information from the senses arriving, the
left orientation area cannot find any boundary between the self and the world. As a
result, the brain seems to have no choice but to perceive the self as endless and
intimately interwoven with everyone and everything, Newberg and dAquili write
in Why God Wont Go Away. The right orientation area, equally bereft of
sensory data, defaults to a feeling of infinite space. The meditators feel that they have
touched infinity.
I felt communion, peace, openness to experience ... [There was] an awareness and
responsiveness to Gods presence around me, and a feeling of centering, quieting,
nothingness, [as well as] moments of fullness of the presence of God. [God was] permeating
my being.
This is how her 45-minute prayer made Sister
Celeste, a Franciscan nun, feel, just before Newberg SPECT-scanned her. During her most
intensely religious moments, when she felt a palpable sense of Gods presence and an
absorption of her self into his being, her brain displayed changes like those in the
Tibetan Buddhist meditators: her orientation area went dark. What Sister Celeste and the
other nuns in the study felt, and what the meditators experienced, Newberg emphasizes,
were neither mistakes nor wishful thinking. They reflect real, biologically based
events in the brain. The fact that spiritual contemplation affects brain activity
gives the experience a reality that psychologists and neuroscientists had long denied it,
and explains why people experience ineffable, transcendent events as equally real as
seeing a wondrous sunset or stubbing their toes.
PINPOINTING SPIRITUAL EXPERIENCE
That a religious experience is reflected in brain
activity is not too surprising, actually. Everything we experiencefrom the sound of
thunder to the sight of a poodle, the feeling of fear and the thought of a polka-dot
castleleaves a trace on the brain. Neurotheology is stalking bigger game than simply
affirming that spiritual feelings leave neural footprints, too. By pinpointing the brain
areas involved in spiritual experiences and tracing how such experiences arise, the
scientists hope to learn whether anyone can have such experiences, and why spiritual
experiences have the qualities they do.
I could hear the singing of the planets, and wave after wave of light washed over me. But
... I was the light as well ... I no longer existed as a separate I ... I saw
into the structure of the universe. I had the impression of knowing beyond knowledge and
being given glimpses into ALL.
That
was how author Sophy Burnham described her experience at Machu Picchu, in her 1997 book
The Ecstatic Journey. Although there was no scientist around to whisk her into
a SPECT machine and confirm that her orientation area was AWOL, it was almost certainly
quiescent. That said, just because an experience has a neural correlate does not mean that
the experience exists only in the brain, or that it is a figment of brain
activity with no independent reality. Think of what happens when you dig into an apple
pie. The brains olfactory region registers the aroma of the cinnamon and fruit. The
somatosensory cortex processes the feel of the flaky crust on the tongue and lips. The
visual cortex registers the sight of the pie. Remembrances of pies past (Grandmas
kitchen, the corner bake shop ...) activate association cortices. A neuroscientist with
too much time on his hands could undoubtedly produce a PET scan of your brain on
apple pie. But that does not negate the reality of the pie. The fact that
spiritual experiences can be associated with distinct neural activity does not necessarily
mean that such experiences are mere neurological illusions, Newberg insists.
Its no safer to say that spiritual urges and sensations are caused by brain
activity than it is to say that the neurological changes through which we experience the
pleasure of eating an apple cause the apple to exist. The bottom line, he says, is
that there is no way to determine whether the neurological changes associated with
spiritual experience mean that the brain is causing those experiences ... or is instead
perceiving a spiritual reality.
PRODUCING VISIONS
In fact, some of the same brain regions involved in
the pie experience create religious experiences, too. When the image of a cross, or a
Torah crowned in silver, triggers a sense of religious awe, it is because the brains
visual-association area, which interprets what the eyes see and connects images to
emotions and memories, has learned to link those images to that feeling. Visions that
arise during prayer or ritual are also generated in the association area: electrical
stimulation of the temporal lobes (which nestle along the sides of the head and house the
circuits responsible for language, conceptual thinking and associations) produces visions.
Temporal-lobe epilepsyabnormal bursts of electrical activity in these
regionstakes this to extremes. Although some studies have cast doubt on the
connection between temporal-lobe epilepsy and religiosity, others find that the condition
seems to trigger vivid, Joan of Arc-type religious visions and voices. In his recent book
Lying Awake, novelist Mark Salzman conjures up the story of a cloistered nun
who, after years of being unable to truly feel the presence of God, begins having visions.
The cause is temporal-lobe epilepsy. Sister John of the Cross must wrestle with whether to
have surgery, which would probably cure herbut would also end her visions.
Dostoevsky, Saint Paul, Saint Teresa of Avila, Proust and others are thought to have had
temporal-lobe epilepsy, leaving them obsessed with matters of the spirit.
Although temporal-lobe epilepsy is rare,
researchers suspect that focused bursts of electrical activity called temporal-lobe
transients may yield mystical experiences. To test this idea, Michael Persinger of
Laurentian University in Canada fits a helmet jury-rigged with electromagnets onto a
volunteers head. The helmet creates a weak magnetic field, no stronger than that
produced by a computer monitor. The field triggers bursts of electrical activity in the
temporal lobes, Persinger finds, producing sensations that volunteers describe as
supernatural or spiritual: an out-of-body experience, a sense of the divine. He suspects
that religious experiences are evoked by mini electrical storms in the temporal lobes, and
that such storms can be triggered by anxiety, personal crisis, lack of oxygen, low blood
sugar and simple fatiguesuggesting a reason that some people find God in
such moments. Why the temporal lobes? Persinger speculates that our left temporal lobe
maintains our sense of self. When that region is stimulated but the right stays quiescent,
the left interprets this as a sensed presence, as the self departing the body, or of God.
I was alone upon the seashore ... I felt that I ... return[ed] from the solitude of
individuation into the consciousness of unity with all that is ... Earth, heaven, and sea
resounded as in one vast world encircling harmony ... I felt myself one with them.
Is an experience like this one, described by the German philosopher Malwida von Meysenburg
in 1900, within the reach of anyone? Not everyone who meditates encounters these
sorts of unitive experiences, says Robert K.C. Forman, a scholar of comparative
religion at Hunter College in New York City. This suggests that some people may be
genetically or temperamentally predisposed to mystical ability. Those most open to
mystical experience tend also to be open to new experiences generally. They are usually
creative and innovative, with a breadth of interests and a tolerance for ambiguity (as
determined by questionnaire). They also tend toward fantasy, notes David Wulff,
suggesting a capacity to suspend the judging process that distinguishes imaginings
and real events. Since we all have the brain circuits that mediate spiritual
experiences, probably most people have the capacity for having such experiences,
says Wulff. But its possible to foreclose that possibility. If you are
rational, controlled, not prone to fantasy, you will probably resist the experience.
MEASURING SPIRITUAL FORCE
In survey after survey since the 1960s, between 30
and 40 percent or so of those asked say they have, at least once or twice, felt very
close to a powerful, spiritual force that seemed to lift you out of yourself. Gallup
polls in the 1990s found that 53 percent of American adults said they had had a
moment of sudden religious awakening or insight. Reports of mystical experience
increase with education, income and age (people in their 40s and 50s are most likely to
have them).
Yet many people seem no more able to have such an experience than to fly to Venus. One
explanation came in 1999, when Australian researchers found that people who report
mystical and spiritual experiences tend to have unusually easy access to subliminal
consciousness. In people whose unconscious thoughts tend to break through into
consciousness more readily, we find some correlation with spiritual experiences,
says psychologist Michael Thalbourne of the University of Adelaide. Unfortunately,
scientists are pretty clueless about what allows subconscious thoughts to pop into the
consciousness of some people and not others. The single strongest predictor of such
experiences, however, is something called dissociation. In this state,
different regions of the brain disengage from others. This theory, which explains
hypnotizability so well, might explain mystical states, too, says Michael Shermer,
director of the Skeptics Society, which debunks paranormal phenomena. Something
really seems to be going on in the brain, with some module dissociating from the rest of
the cortex.
THE NEURAL BASIS FOR RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE
That dissociation may reflect unusual electrical
crackling in one or more brain regions. In 1997, neurologist Vilayanur Ramachandran told
the annual meeting of the Society for Neuroscience that there is a neural basis for
religious experience. His preliminary results suggested that depth of religious
feeling, or religiosity, might depend on naturalnot helmet-inducedenhancements
in the electrical activity of the temporal lobes. Interestingly, this region of the brain
also seems important for speech perception. One experience common to many spiritual states
is hearing the voice of God. It seems to arise when you misattribute inner speech (the
little voice in your head that you know you generate yourself) to something
outside yourself. During such experiences, the brains Brocas area (responsible
for speech production) switches on. Most of us can tell this is our inner voice speaking.
But when sensory information is restricted, as happens during meditation or prayer, people
are more likely to misattribute internally generated thoughts to an external
source, suggests psychologist Richard Bentall of the University of Manchester in
England in the book Varieties of Anomalous Experience.
Stress and emotional arousal can also interfere with the brains ability to find the
source of a voice, Bentall adds. In a 1998 study, researchers found that one particular
brain region, called the right anterior cingulate, turned on when people heard something
in the environmenta voice or a soundand also when they hallucinated hearing
something. But it stayed quiet when they imagined hearing something and thus were sure it
came from their own brain. This region, says Bentall, may contain the neural
circuits responsible for tagging events as originating from the external world. When
it is inappropriately switched on, we are fooled into thinking the voice we hear comes
from outside us.
Even people who describe themselves as nonspiritual can be moved by religious ceremonies
and liturgy. Hence the power of ritual. Drumming, dancing, incantationsall rivet
attention on a single, intense source of sensory stimulation, including the bodys
own movements. They also evoke powerful emotional responses. That combinationfocused
attention that excludes other sensory stimuli, plus heightened emotionis key.
Together, they seem to send the brains arousal system into hyperdrive, much as
intense fear does. When this happens, explains Newberg, one of the brain structures
responsible for maintaining equilibriumthe hippocampusputs on the brakes. It
inhibits the flow of signals between neurons, like a traffic cop preventing any more cars
from entering the on-ramp to a tied-up highway.
SOFTENING OF THE BOUNDARIES OF THE SELF
The result is that certain regions of the brain are
deprived of neuronal input. One such deprived region seems to be the orientation area, the
same spot that goes quiet during meditation and prayer. As in those states, without
sensory input the orientation area cannot do its job of maintaining a sense of where the
self leaves off and the world begins. Thats why ritual and liturgy can bring on what
Newberg calls a softening of the boundaries of the selfand the sense of
oneness and spiritual unity. Slow chanting, elegiac liturgical melodies and whispered
ritualistic prayer all seem to work their magic in much the same way: they turn on the
hippocampus directly and block neuronal traffic to some brain regions. The result again is
blurring the edges of the brains sense of self, opening the door to the
unitary states that are the primary goal of religious ritual, says Newberg.
Researchers newfound interest in neurotheology reflects more than the availability
of cool new toys to peer inside the working brain. Psychology and neuroscience have long
neglected religion. Despite its centrality to the mental lives of so many people, religion
has been met by what David Wulff calls indifference or even apathy on the part
of science. When one psychologist, a practicing Christian, tried to discuss in his
introductory psych book the role of faith in peoples lives, his publisher edited out
most of itfor fear of offending readers. The rise of neurotheology represents a
radical shift in that attitude. And whatever light science is shedding on spirituality,
spirituality is returning the favor: mystical experiences, says Forman, may tell us
something about consciousness, arguably the greatest mystery in neuroscience. In
mystical experiences, the content of the mind fades, sensory awareness drops out, so you
are left only with pure consciousness, says Forman. This tells you that
consciousness does not need an object, and is not a mere byproduct of sensory
action.
For all the tentative successes that scientists are scoring in their search for the
biological bases of religious, spiritual and mystical experience, one mystery will surely
lie forever beyond their grasp. They may trace a sense of transcendence to this bulge in
our gray matter. And they may trace a feeling of the divine to that one. But it is likely
that they will never resolve the greatest question of allnamely, whether our brain
wiring creates God, or whether God created our brain wiring. Which you believe is, in the
end, a matter of faith.
(c)
2001 Newsweek. Inc.
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In Search Of God
From New Scientist magazine, 21 April 2001
Are our religious feelings just a product of how the
brain works? Bob Holmes meets the researchers who are trying to explain our most sacred
thoughts
EINSTEIN FELT IT. It's what draws people to church, prayer, meditation, sacred dance and
other rituals. Chances are you've felt something like it too--in the mountains, by the
sea, or perhaps while listening to a piece of music that's especially close to your heart.
In fact, more than half of people report having had some sort of mystical or religious
experience. For some, the experience is so intense it changes their life forever.
But what is "it"? The presence of God? A glimpse of a higher plane of being? Or
just the mystical equivalent of dj vu, a trick the brain sometimes plays on your
conscious self? At some level, of course, all our thoughts and sensations--however
unusual--must involve the brain. Indeed, experiments on the brain have led neuroscientists
to suggest that the capacity for religion may somehow be hardwired into us. If so, why do
people's religious experiences differ so profoundly, moving some so deeply while leaving
others cold?
Andrew Newberg, a neuroscientist at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia, has
been fascinated by the neurobiology of religion for more than a decade. He admits it's an
awkward role for a scientist. "I always get concerned that people will say I'm a
religious person who's trying to prove that God exists, or I'm a cynic who's trying to
prove that God doesn't exist," he says. "But we try to approach it without
bias." Earlier this month he published a book, which lays out the most complete
theory to date of how mystical or religious experiences can be generated in the brain.
Together with the now deceased Eugene d'Aquili, a colleague from Penn, Newberg was keen to
study the sensations that are unique to religious experiences but shared by people of all
faiths. One of these is the sense of "oneness with the Universe" that enthralled
Einstein. The other is the feeling of awe that accompanies such revelations and makes them
stand out as more important, more highly charged, and in a way more real than our everyday
lives.
But Newberg realised that rare, fleeting revelations would be almost impossible to study
in the lab. It meant he had to ignore the one-off experiences that strike out of the blue
and focus instead on meditation and prayer--sedate, but at least reproducible.
Through a colleague who practised Tibetan Buddhism, Newberg and d'Aquili managed to find
eight skilled meditators who were willing to undergo brain imaging. The volunteers came to
the lab one at a time, and a technician inserted an intravenous tube into one arm. Then
the volunteer began to meditate as normal, focusing intently on a single image, usually a
religious symbol. The goal was to feel their everyday sense of self begin to dissolve, so
that they became one with the image. "It feels like a loss of boundary," says
Michael Baime, one of the meditators and also a researcher in the study. "It's as if
the film of your life broke and you were seeing the light that allowed the film to be
projected."
Hidden in the next room, Newberg and d'Aquili waited. When the meditator felt the sense of
oneness developing--usually after about an hour--they would tug on a string. This
signalled the researchers to inject a radioactive tracer through the intraveno | |