1. prevent children from becoming addicted to drugs in the future, 
2. allow addicts to easily and safely stop using drugs, and 
3. potentially lower the social and economic costs of addiction for society at large.

by Mo Costandi

By Ryan Purcell

Gummy bear head transplant, courtesy of flickr user Ella Phillips

by Carolyn Plunkett

by Carlie Hoffman

Rhesus macaques, a species of NHP often used in research.

by John Banja, PhD

by Dr. L. Syd M Johnson

by Peter Reiner, PhD

Louis Brandeis in his law office, 1890.

Cary Grant chased by an airplane in North by Northwest, courtesy of Flickr user Insomnia Cured Here.

By Carlie Hoffman

Pesticides not only harm insects, but certain doses can also have harmful effects on the human body.

by Arthur T. Ryan, M.A. and Elaine F. Walker, Ph.D.

Arthur Ryan is a graduate student in clinical psychology at Emory University. His research focuses on understanding the etiology and neuropathology underlying severe mental illness.

Elaine Walker is a Professor of Psychology and Neuroscience in the Department of Psychology at Emory University and is the Director of the Development and Mental Health Research Program, which is supported by the National Institute of Mental Health. Her research is focused on child and adolescent development and the brain changes that are associated with adolescence. She is also a member of the AJOB Neuroscience editorial board.

Arthur Ryan, M.A.

by Victoria Saigle and Eric Racine, Ph.D.
 

Eric Racine, Ph.D.

by Neil Levy

Neil Levy is professor of philosophy at Macquarie University, Sydney and deputy director of the Oxford Centre for Neuroethics. He is the author of 7 books, including Neuroethics (2007) and Consciousness and Moral Responsibility (2014), and edits the journal Neuroethics. He is also a member of the AJOB Neuroscience board.

A recent study by Rachel Yehuda et al. in Biological Psychiatry provided further evidence for the genetic transmission of acquired characteristics, by showing that Holocaust survivors passed certain acquired genetic markers to their children. The idea that acquired characteristics can be genetically transmitted is (roughly) equivalent to the doctrine of Lamarckism, and was long considered a heresy in biology. [Editor's note: see also Ryan Purcell's 2014 post for this blog on the relationship between Lamarckism and epigenetics.] According to the Darwinian orthodoxy, traits change because randomly occurring mutations confer a relative fitness advantage on some organisms, not because they change their behaviour, and that change then comes to be encoded in the genes. But the orthodoxy has long been shattered. Scientists now recognize that the story is a lot more complex than that.

by Paul J. Ford, PhD

Dr. Ford is Director of the NeuroEthics Program at the Cleveland Clinic. He is an active clinical ethicist, and teaches ethics to medical students, residents, and fellows. His publications have appeared in Science, The Hastings Center Report, Neurology, Neuromodulation, and Journal of Medical Ethics. He is also a board member for AJOB Neuroscience.

This spring (June 3-4, 2015) the National Institutes of Health (NIH) as part of the BRAIN Initiative convened an eclectic group of individuals in hopes of encouraging more investigator initiated studies of currently approved neuromodulation and neuro recording devices for new indications (agenda, session videos, and program goals available here). The participants, both on the program and in the audience, specifically included industry, researchers, universities, and governmental agencies. I was delighted to participate in the workshop and was impressed by the number of sincerely interested parties across the spectrum of roles. Within these conversations it was apparent that there existed many shared values and goals as well as complex challenges for protecting particular interests. It beautifully highlighted the complexities of interactions among varied stakeholders.

by Karen Rommelfanger

I recently sat on a panel discussion for an early screening of the movie Self/less. I'm quoted (mostly correctly) with my name (mostly) spelled correctly here.

In Self/less, an aging business tycoon with a terminal illess (played by Ben Kingsley) pays to "shed" his skin for a new, younger, fitter body (played by Ryan Reynolds). See trailer above.

The film, despite the futuristic theme, revisits mundane themes of the Faustian tradeoff or a deal with a devil, ultimately conveying the message that the costs, even for the rich, are too high when trying to cheat death. The title of the movie implies that for the greater good the selfless thing to do is to just die as nature intended.

While the film would surely be categorized as science fiction, there are entrepreneurs quite dedicated to making such a possibility a reality.

by Krish Sathian, MD, PhD

by Laura Otis, PhD

by Frans de Waal

Editor's note: Frans de Waal, PhD, is the Charles Howard Candler Professor of Primate Behavior at Emory University and the Director of the Living Links Center at the Yerkes National Primate Research Center. He is also a member of the United States National Academy of Sciences and the Royal Netherlands Academy of Sciences and a member of the AJOB Neuroscience editorial board. His research focuses on primate social behavior, including conflict resolution, cooperation, inequality aversion, and food-sharing.

de Waal, a leading primatologist, makes an argument here for thinking seriously about the captivity of certain animals such as orcas. Of course, the orca also has a sophisticated mammalian brain. Is the defining criterion of our responsibility to other animals their ecological needs, as de Waal suggests, or is it their cognitive function? What do you think?

There is so much to-do about orcas (killer whales) in captivity, with a drumbeat of voices against humans keeping this species, that it was about time we got some data on longevity. Not that longevity is the only measure to consider with regards to the ethics of keeping these fascinating animals, but since there is the claim out there that orcas in human care live short, stressful lives, there is a need to know the truth.

Source: flickr.com

by Karen Rommelfanger

Miguel Nicolelis is dedicated to liberating the human brain from the physical constraints of a body.

Recently, brain-machine interface engineer extraordinaire Miguel Nicolelis connected nonhuman animal brains in a modern-day mind meld called the brainet. For those who don't already know him, Nicolelis is an innovator, dedicated to pushing the limits of what is possible with neurotechnology, and a media darling to boot.

One focus of Nicolelis' work has been developing neural prostheses whose function is mediated through wired or wirelessly transmitted electrical activity from arrays of electrodes implanted on the surfaces of nonhuman animal brains. One well-known experiment from the Nicolelis lab involved monkeys that learned to feed themselves a marshmallow  or even operate a robot on a treadmill via direct connection electrodes implanted in their brains and a prosthetic arm. For extra flash, Nicolelis had a 12-lb monkey (based out of a Duke laboratory) operate a 200-lb robot on a treadmill in Tokyo by transmitting its brain activity through an Internet connection. In this same 2013 interview he waxes philosophical, “Our sense of self does not end at end of the cells of our bodies, but it ends at the last layer of the electrons of the tool that we’re commanding with our brains.”


His work has intended applications for humans. One recent media stunt involved a "Mind-controlled robotic exoskeleton"  donned by an individual who was paralyzed from the trunk down. 29-year-old Juliano Pinto kicked off the first ball at the World Cup in 2014 through an electrode studded cap on his head that transmitted recorded electrical activity from his brain to a robotic suit. Hailing from

This photo shows a brick high-rise institutional building with a  gravel road leading away from its parking lot, green grass and  fresh tire tracks nearby.  Toward the front of the building several  cars are parked outside the front of the building at the bottom  floor of this 10- or 12-story, double-winged ward.  “Building 82”  at Pilgrim Psychiatric Center in Brentwood, New York, is still  home to many individuals with psychiatric disabilities.  Though  three out of four institutions in Suffolk County, Long Island were  closed and their residents deinstitutionalized, others with more  severe  disabilities or who were more geriatric ended up here. Photo by Cassandra Evans

by Carlie Hoffman

by Jonah Queen

In a previous post on this blog, I wrote about the Mad Pride movement, which advocates for the rights of, and the end of stigma against, those diagnosed with psychiatric disorders. I discussed how the lack of a clear distinction between “normal” and “abnormal” psychology even leads some activists to think of these conditions as extreme emotional or sensory experiences rather than illnesses. Mad pride advocates see a trend of increasing medicalization within psychiatry, arguing that feelings and behaviors are too readily classified as pathological. But this concern with over-medicalization is not unique to the Mad Pride movement. It is expressed by a wide range of individuals, including those within the mental health establishment. But there is one area where the field of mental health seems to be moving in the opposite direction: hallucinations. DSM-5, which has been criticized for overly broad definitions of psychiatric disorders, is restricting the diagnostic criteria for schizophrenia, making it so that hearing voices (with no additional symptoms) is no longer sufficient for a diagnosis.

The cover of the report in which Charles Bonnet first described the condition which would be named after him (from demneuropsy.com.br)

by Katie Givens Kime

The following post is part of a special series emerging from Contemporary Issues in Neuroethics, a graduate-level course out of Emory University’s Center for Ethics. Katie Givens Kime is a doctoral student in Religion, with foci in practical theology, psychoanalysis, and neuroethics, and her research investigates the religious and spiritual aspects of addiction recovery methods.  

A few years ago, a highly respected and accomplished philosopher at Duke University, Owen Flanagan, surprised everyone when he stood up to speak at Society for Philosophy and Psychology.  A garden-variety academic presentation it was not.  In “What Is It Like to Be An Addict?” Flanagan revealed to 150 of his esteemed colleagues that he had been addicted to various narcotics and to alcohol for many, many years.  Not so long ago, every gruesome morning looked like this:

by Keenan Davis

The following post is part of a special series emerging from Contemporary Issues in Neuroethics, a graduate-level course out of Emory University’s Center for Ethics. Keenan is a graduate student in Bioethics, whose work focuses on the use of virtue ethics and natural law to evaluate novel biotechnologies. He will be pursuing a PhD in the Graduate Division of Religion in the fall.

What should I be doing with my life? Many approach this timeless question by considering first another: Who am I? For a wide range thinkers from Plato to Dr. Phil, we can only know what to do with ourselves when we truly know ourselves. Who we are determines and constrains how we ought to behave. For example, because my parents caused me to exist, I should behave towards them with a level of gratitude and love. Perhaps through a cause-and-effect dynamic, as a result of being their son, I should treat them respectfully. We will return to this example at the conclusion of our exploration.

Historically, the question of selfhood was assessed in terms of an afterlife, seeking to resolve what happens to us when we die. If, as Plato claimed, a person is nothing more than his soul, "a thing immortal," then he will survive physical death. Indeed, perhaps one should look forward to the separation of the soul from material constraints. How we ought to behave then is for the sake of existence after and beyond this world, a position shared by many adherents to Abrahamic religion. On the other hand, if we are no more than our bodies, then we do not persist after death and have no reason to orient our behavior toward post-mortem expectations. Such is the position of Lucretius and the Epicureans who conclude that our practical task is instead to flourish within a strictly material context. Our behavior should be for the sake of this world. For both Lucretius and Plato, the metaphysical substance of self is what mattered foremost.

John Locke

As part of the 17th century Enlightenment, John Locke changed the focus from the substance of self and more explicitly addressed the issue of selfhood with an eye to its normative consequences. For instance, he believed the self to be based entirely on memory and consciousness, regardless of the relationship between body and soul. By defining personhood as continuous self-identification through memory, Locke aimed to establish psychological criteria for moral agency and responsibility. Only if one is responsible for particular actions ought he be liable for judgment, reward, or punishment. Despite his emphasis on the psychological, as opposed to the biological or spiritual, Locke's definition of self still follows the cause-and-effect pattern of is then ought: who I am determines how I should behave.



Using thought experiments like the famous Ship of Theseus conundrum, philosopher Trenton Merricks of the University of Virginia undermines this line of thought by suggesting that there is no metaphysical answer to the question of who we are. There simply are no necessary and sufficient criteria—psychological, bodily, or otherwise—of identity over time for any object. Lest we take this conclusion too far, Merricks explains that it does not mean that persons and objects lack essential properties or evade description: "Among my essential properties are, I think, being a person and failing to be a cat or hatbox." His assessment just means that not all explanations or identifications involving characteristics need to be stated in terms of absolute proof. Allowing a modest concession to unavoidable skepticism, we need not (nor do we ever) demonstrate infallibly that "the tree in my yard today is the same tree that was in my yard yesterday" to warrant that belief. We can still be warranted in our beliefs regarding who we are without proving them absolutely certain.

by Shaunesse' Jacobs

The following post is part of a special series emerging from Contemporary Issues in Neuroethics, a graduate-level course out of Emory University’s Center for Ethics. Shaunesse' is a dual masters student in Theological Studies and Bioethics at Emory and her research interests lie in end-of-life care and religious practices surrounding death and dying.

by Jillybeth Burgado

The following post is part of a special series emerging from Contemporary Issues in Neuroethics, a graduate-level course out of Emory University’s Center for Ethics. Jillybeth is a senior undergraduate double majoring in neuroscience and behavioral biology and religion. She hopes to pursue a PhD in neuroscience after working as a research assistant after graduation.

Chipmunka Publishing

The idea that variation in behaviors arises through natural differences in our genome was popularized in the 1990s and termed “neurodiversity.” Led in large part by autism spectrum disorder (autism) activists, this movement challenged the established notions of autism as a disease that needed to be eradicated, championing the acceptance of a wide array of neural differences in the population. Rejecting terms such as “normal,” proponents of neurodiversity questioned common messaging and goals of research organizations (e.g. autism is not something that needs to be eradicated or “cured”). In this post, I briefly summarize the neuroethical concerns of ground-breaking neuroscience research, with particular focus on autism diagnostic research. I will then introduce a less well-known movement, Mad Pride, and discuss how we can apply some of the concepts and lessons from the autism and neurodiversity movements to understand and evaluate the claims of those involved with Mad Pride.

by Fuad Haddad

The following post is part of a special series emerging from Contemporary Issues in Neuroethics, a graduate-level course out of Emory University’s Center for Ethics. Fuad is an undergraduate junior at Emory studying neuroscience and behavioral biology and ethics. He currently performs research at Yerkes National Primate Research Center under Dr. Larry Young, studying the relationship of single nucleotide polymorphism and pair bonding. His other research interests are the relationship between oxytocin and allopatric grooming as a model of empathy. 

I guess Robert Frost isn’t going to Athens. From southeastroads.com

The following post is part of a special series emerging from Contemporary Issues in Neuroethics, a graduate-level course out of Emory University’s Center for Ethics.

People often ask me what language I dream in. I usually tell them that I dream in both languages – Romanian and English – and that it depends on the content of the dream and on the people featured in it. I associate emotional states with my native Romanian, while organized, sequential thinking is easier in English. Most of the time, I am not even aware of the identity of the language I produce and hear in my dreams.

Leaving the mysterious dimension of dreams behind, how does the multilingual brain navigate the world? Faced with an information-dense environment, it is able to switch its language of appraisal at the moment’s need. Consider the increasingly large group of bilingual English-speaking Hispanics in the United States. Most of them use English in their academic and work environments, then effortlessly switch to Spanish when talking to family members and other Spanish speakers. They also retrieve autobiographical memories in the original language of encoding without losing any more details than a monolingual individual. Given a context, multilingual individuals are able to adjust to the linguistic requirements of the situation. The multilingual brain is, therefore, an adaptable brain.

This leads us to the next point of inquiry. How does speaking several languages sculpt the brain? The Brain and Language Laboratory for Neuroimaging led by Dr. Laura-Ann Petitto has been investigating the differential activity in monolingual and bilingual brains during comprehension tasks, and has found that bilinguals show increased activation in the left inferior frontal cortex, an area associated with semantic processing and behavior inhibition. Another group led by Dr. Jubin Abutalebi has found that the brain of bilinguals recruits more areas when processing language than the brain of monolinguals. Finally, a recent study replicated the finding that learning a second language early in life changes the structure of white matter in the brain. This study is of particular interest, because it suggests that learning a second language later in life and using it concurrently with the first has the same effects on the brain.

Image by Harriet Russell. From www.nytimes.com