The future of mind control
From The Economist print
edition
Neuroscience
The future of
mind control
May
23rd 2002
From The Economist print edition
People already
worry about genetics. They should worry about brain science too
IN AN attempt
to treat depression, neuroscientists once carried out a simple
experiment. Using electrodes, they stimulated the brains of women in
ways that caused pleasurable feelings. The subjects came to no
harm—indeed their symptoms appeared to evaporate, at least
temporarily—but they quickly fell in love with their experimenters.
Such a
procedure (and there have been worse in the history of neuroscience)
poses far more of a threat to human dignity and autonomy than does
cloning. Cloning is the subject of fierce debate, with proposals for
wholesale bans. Yet when it comes to neuroscience, no government or
treaty stops anything. For decades, admittedly, no neuroscientist has
been known to repeat the love experiment. A scientist who used a similar
technique to create remote-controlled rats seemed not even to have
entertained the possibility. “Humans? Who said anything about humans?”
he said, in genuine shock, when questioned. “We work on rats.”
Ignoring a
possibility does not, however, make it go away. If asked to guess which
group of scientists is most likely to be responsible, one day, for
overturning the essential nature of humanity, most people might suggest
geneticists. In fact neurotechnology poses a greater threat—and also a
more immediate one. Moreover, it is a challenge that is largely ignored
by regulators and the public, who seem unduly obsessed by gruesome
fantasies of genetic dystopias.
A person's
genetic make-up certainly has something important to do with his
subsequent behaviour. But genes exert their effects through the brain.
If you want to predict and control a person's behaviour, the brain is
the place to start. Over the course of the next decade, scientists may
be able to predict, by examining a scan of a person's brain, not only
whether he will tend to mental sickness or health, but also whether he
will tend to depression or violence. Neural implants may within a few
years be able to increase intelligence or to speed up reflexes. Drug
companies are hunting for molecules to assuage brain-related ills, from
paralysis to shyness (see
article).
A public debate
over the ethical limits to such neuroscience is long overdue. It may be
hard to shift public attention away from genetics, which has so clearly
shown its sinister side in the past. The spectre of eugenics, which
reached its culmination in Nazi Germany, haunts both politicians and
public. The fear that the ability to monitor and select for desirable
characteristics will lead to the subjugation of the undesirable—or the
merely unfashionable—is well-founded.
Not so long ago
neuroscientists, too, were guilty of victimising the mentally ill and
the imprisoned in the name of science. Their sins are now largely
forgotten, thanks in part to the intractable controversy over the moral
status of embryos. Anti-abortion lobbyists, who find stem-cell research
and cloning repugnant, keep the ethics of genetic technology high on the
political agenda. But for all its importance, the quarrel over abortion
and embryos distorts public discussion of bioethics; it is a wonder that
people in the field can discuss anything else.
In fact, they
hardly do. America's National Institutes of Health has a hefty budget
for studying the ethical, legal and social implications of genetics, but
it earmarks nothing for the specific study of the ethics of
neuroscience. The National Institute of Mental Health, one of its
component bodies, has seen fit to finance a workshop on the ethical
implications of “cyber-medicine”, yet it has not done the same to
examine the social impact of drugs for “hyperactivity”, which 7% of
American six- to eleven-year-olds now take. The Wellcome Trust,
Britain's main source of finance for the study of biomedical ethics, has
a programme devoted to the ethics of brain research, but the number of
projects is dwarfed by its parallel programme devoted to genetics.
Uncontrollable fears
The worriers
have not spent these resources idly. Rather, they have produced the
first widespread legislative and diplomatic efforts directed at
containing scientific advance. The Council of Europe and the United
Nations have declared human reproductive cloning a violation of human
rights. The Senate is soon to vote on a bill that would send American
scientists to prison for making cloned embryonic stem cells.
Yet
neuroscientists have been left largely to their own devices, restrained
only by standard codes of medical ethics and experimentation. This
relative lack of regulation and oversight has produced a curious result.
When it comes to the brain, society now regards the distinction between
treatment and enhancement as essentially meaningless. Taking a drug such
as Prozac when you are not clinically depressed used to be called
cosmetic, or non-essential, and was therefore considered an improper use
of medical technology. Now it is regarded as just about as cosmetic, and
as non-essential, as birth control or orthodontics. American legislators
are weighing the so-called parity issue—the argument that mental
treatments deserve the same coverage in health-insurance plans as any
other sort of drug. Where drugs to change personality traits were once
seen as medicinal fripperies, or enhancements, they are now seen as
entitlements.
This flexible
attitude towards neurotechnology—use it if it might work, demand it if
it does—is likely to extend to all sorts of other technologies that
affect health and behaviour, both genetic and otherwise. Rather than
resisting their advent, people are likely to begin clamouring for those
that make themselves and their children healthier and happier.
This might be
bad or it might be good. It is a question that public discussion ought
to try to settle, perhaps with the help of a regulatory body such as the
Human Fertilisation and Embryology Authority, which oversees embryo
research in Britain. History teaches that worrying overmuch about
technological change rarely stops it. Those who seek to halt genetics in
its tracks may soon learn that lesson anew, as rogue scientists perform
experiments in defiance of well-intended bans. But, if society is
concerned about the pace and ethics of scientific advance, it should at
least form a clearer picture of what is worth worrying about, and why.
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