philosophy of mind – Australian Science

When a mind goes awry

Kevin Orrman-Rossiter — Thu, 20 Jun 2013 07:23:15 +0000

Trouble in Mind (Jenni Ogden, Scribe, $32.95, ISBN 9781922070562, July 2013)

I do not think I would be alone in fearing ‘losing my mind’. Even the common expression, “are you out of your mind?” gives solid form to what may seem a merely philosophical train of thought. At any given time most people will declare confidently that “I am in my ‘right mind’ and point to themselves as that ‘I’. The quandary is the ‘I’ of age eight is different to the ‘I’ of forty-eight; despite the continuity of of ‘I’ joining these two for example. Our mind then is one of those puzzling concepts at once both familiar and ephemeral. To lose ones mind, though, even partially, through trauma, disease, or disorder we would all agree is to lose some quintessential part of us. Trouble In Mind is a collection of real stories about people who have suffered just that – losing part of their minds.

The stories are from patients that the neuropsychologist author, Jenni Ogden, has worked with over her career in New Zealand, the USA, and Australia. Ten of the 15 patients portrayed in this book featured in Ogden’s 2005 textbook Fractured Minds. Trouble in Mind is neither text, nor assessment, nor treatment book. There are other books on the market that describe patients with a variety of neurological conditions. Many written by clinicians such as Ogden. Most I find fall short because the clinician writer is excited by the condition and fails to connect the human to that condition. In other examples non-clinicians often focus complete cures, without any reference to the many that underwent similar treatments – without success.

Ogden’s stories succinctly and clearly explain the medical conditions and engagingly present the human side of each in an empathetic and nuanced style. Whether talking about patients with car-crash brain trauma, rugby-induced concussion or suffering from Parkinson’s disease Ogden covers the personal, social and family elements with clarity that is often missing in clinical based non-fiction written by clinicians. In this respect Ogden writes with feeling like that of psychologist Oliver Sacks at his best.

These are stories that will have a resonance with most in our society. Three in particular I will mention as way of illustration of the breadth covered. Michael was a 24-year old motorcycle maniac. After a horrific accident, he left the critical care unit with a virtually ignored head injury; the surgeons had grappled with keeping him alive and the extensive orthopedic surgeries and specialist care. neither he nor his doctors realised that he was cortically blind. This resolved itself after two years – leaving him with object agnosia – the inability to recognise what he was seeing. Ogden then describes he many years work with Michael, his trials, tribulations and treatments to living 24 years later is a life with a most interesting disability. Amongst this we also get Ogden’s motivation – her clinician’s ‘delight’ in being asked to work with such an unusual case. Yes her delight, her excitement; those real human emotions not hidden behind neutral, banal psychology speak.

Hemispherical neglect. Wikimedia commons.

In another chapter Ogden looks at the bizarre neuropsychological disorder of hemineglect – ignoring visual stimuli in the side of space opposite to the side of their brain that is damaged. In this case though the patient is a chirpy 50 year-old female, Janet. The chapter is fascinating and the description of janet’s sessions with Ogden are sometimes, well, hilarious. But this is real-life not Hollywood. Janet’s hemineglect is caused by a brain tumor. Janet dies, four long and difficult years following her diagnosis. Ogden doesn’t just end the chapter, she humanely discusses the impact on Janet’s husband and close family and friends of her treatment and death. She also assesses the effectiveness of the treatments, looking at other cases, from her own and others’ casebooks.

The final chapter is aptly called “The Long Goodbye: coming to terms with Alzheimer’s disease.” This chapter follows Sophie’s diagnosis and cognitive decline from Alzheimer’s disease. I learnt a lot about the disease from reading this chapter. I equally learnt how it would be to watch a person who “was once active, independent, intelligent, humorous and loving gradually lose her mind”.

This collection of stories is eminently readable. I recommend it to readers with either; a specific, perhaps personal, topic of interest or those more generally who are curious and interested in how our minds work, particularly when they go awry due to damage to that squishy grey organ inside our skull.

Cite this article:
Orrman-Rossiter K (2013-06-20 07:23:15). When a mind goes awry. Australian Science. Retrieved: May 03, 2024, from http://australianscience.com.au/book-review-2/when-a-mind-go-awry/

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Do animals have minds?

Kevin Orrman-Rossiter — Fri, 19 Apr 2013 02:00:07 +0000

Animal Wise: the thoughts and emotions of our fellow creatures, by Virginia Morell, Black Inc. Books, 2013.

Laughing rats, name-calling wild parrots, archer-fish with a sense of humour, and educated ants; the naturalist Charles Darwin would have loved this book. The philosopher Rene Descartes would equally have found it deeply troubling. Both with good reason.

In Descartes’ dualist philosophy the mind and body are two separate entities. There is the material body and the immaterial mind or soul. The latter linking humans to the mind of God, making us, in his philosophy, different to animals. Descartes famously reasoned animals are composed only of material substances and therefore have no capacity to reason. More importantly for how we see animals, Descartes wrote that a human person, such as you or I, is something distinct from that person’s body. Therefore an animal, being material only, could in this way of thinking, never have a mind – never have a concept of “I”.

This stance was extended by the behaviorist paradigms of the mid 20th century associated with the psychologist B F Skinner.

Darwin on the other hand thought differently. He was a natural philosopher who got up out of his armchair and voyaged the world, most notably aboard the Beagle. Darwin attributed emotions to many animals and even argued that earthworms are cognitive beings. In his classic The Descent of Man he argued, most persuasively, that we and the other animals differ in our mental powers by degree, not in kind.

Today the discussion is no different, researchers still debate not only advanced claims of intelligence in animals but also how to test whether their abilities reflect human-like cognition.

This brings me to what I liked so much about this book.

Each chapter focuses on an animal in a particular observational or experimental setting. Virginia Morell introduces us to the scientist and the animals, explaining the studies, the results and some of the trials and triumphs along the way to building an understanding of what the scientists find. The animal and settings we may already have a prejudice about; captive dolphins, elephant memories, chimpanzees and language, dogs and humans, are very carefully presented to ensure that the most compelling results are well presented. The more novel animals, ants and fish for example, are also carefully presented, their novelty makes for an easier presentation. For example I had no preconceived ideas regarding the ability of ants to teach – with no mental hurdle of my to overcome – that chapter was very illuminating. The examples and researchers chosen for these chapters succinctly illustrate what we have learnt about the emotions and intelligence of these animals.

Yes I did say chosen. It does not pretend, nor claim to be, encyclopaedic, academic nor ‘balanced’ presentation of the entire field. This is a lively, non-fiction tour of the cutting edge of animal cognitive science. Virginia Morell translates the scientific jargon of the field into words that all can engage with.

Each chapter is a separate story, reflecting that some of the chapters were adapted from previously published articles from 2008 to 2012. These are neatly book-ended with chapter that frame these quite succinctly. This I think is a strength of the book. Each chapter, each story, is self-contained that you can read it, look at the references and ponder what the researchers and Virginia are conveying to you. Not only do you get an appreciation of the scientific significance of the various studies – you get that rare glimpse into the scientific process and personality that is often missed in science communication writing.

For example, consider the archer-fish and neuroscientist Stefan Schuster. I learnt that Stefan has spent more than forty years investigating how fish think and make decisions. I learnt that the idea of seeing life from the mind of a fish was something that grabbed him as a child. Stefan’s story is more than just his careful experimentation on fish behaviour. Along the way he has made key discoveries about the sophisticated mental abilities of the archer-fish. The archer-fish is well-named for it is the sharpshooter of the piscine world.

In the chapter discussing his work I learnt that Schuster owes his success to curiosity, fun and serendipity – as well as careful experimentation. Schuster and his students had discovered that archer-fish learnt how to shoot at difficult and novel targets by watching another skilled fish perform the task. That means they had taken the viewpoint of the other fish. Did they copy or imitate? Let the philosophers debate the definitions. What the archerfish do involves cognition. Although we don’t understand the relationship between cognition and sentience, scientists know that one informs the other.

Each chapter is replete with great stories, good science and probing philosophy. Morell displays her ability to write engagingly for a general audience, while presenting the science at a suitably intriguing level. If you view animals the same after reading this book – then give it a second read – it will be worth it.

I’ll leave the last words to the late Douglas Adams:

Man had always assumed that he was more intelligent than dolphins because he had achieved so much – the wheel, New York, wars and so on – while all the dolphins had ever done was muck about in the water having a good time. But conversely, the dolphins had always believed that they were far more intelligent than man – for precisely the same reasons.

Cite this article:
Orrman-Rossiter K (2013-04-19 02:00:07). Do animals have minds?. Australian Science. Retrieved: May 03, 2024, from http://australianscience.com.au/science-2/do-animals-have-minds/

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The post Do animals have minds? appeared first on Australian Science.