Panksepp's Affective Neuroscience

CSGnet Archive CSG2010
1

[From Bruce Abbott
(2010.02.10.1830 EST)]

For those who are following
the discussion Bill Powers and I are having over Jaak (rhymes with “Lock,”
with the J pronounced as a Y) Panksepp’s book, Affective Neuroscience,
I’ve discovered that Google Books has a preview version of the 2004
edition. You can find it at the following URL:

http://books.google.com/books?id=qqcRGagyEuAC&printsec=frontcover&source=gbs_v2_summary_r&cad=0#v=onepage&q=&f=false

Only selected portions are reproduced, but it’s enough
to give you a good impression of its “flavor.” A portion of Chapter
10 on rage and aggression (from which I quoted in my post) is available there.

Bruce A.

2

[From Bill Powers (2010.02.11.0835 MST)]

Bruce Abbott (2010.02.10.1830 EST) –

For those who are following the
discussion Bill Powers and I are having over Jaak (rhymes with “Lock,”
with the J pronounced as a Y) Panksepp’s book, Affective
Neuroscience, I’ve discovered that Google Books has a preview version
of the 2004 edition.

I’m sure Jaak is a nice guy and a careful experimenter, but to me he
seems singularly unselfconscious about using his private experience and
his imagination as the yardstick against which Nature is to be measured.
I have nothing against such things when done on purpose, but to do them
unconsciously implies a lack of awareness that they can even happen. He
says
“All mammals appear to experience pain, anger, fear, and many other
raw feelings, but they do not seem able to cognitively reflect upon such
feelings, as we do.”
The key word is “appear.” It’s an odd word, when you think
about it a little. To say “The animal appears to be angry”
implies that it is the animal or the anger that is doing the appearing,
while the human being merely observes this appearance and reports it. Of
course that’s the truth, but not if you think you’re reporting something
objective. The observer’s own perceptual apparatus and the layers of
interpretation that convert raw intensities into named perceptions become
invisible. The idea that the observer is actively imposing his own
perceptual and interpretive properties onto his own sensory inputs is
carefully avoided, or else simply not noticed. Either way, it’s a glaring
scientific error, to my way of thinking. It can be overlooked if it’s
just an occasional way of speaking in shorthand. If it’s the only way of
speaking, it’s a statement of religious faith.
There are many examples of religious bias in his writing. He says of
other animals,
“… we cannot understand their brains, or ours for that matter,
without fully confronting the neural nature of that undefinable attribute
of mind that we commonly call our sense of self, our ego – the feeling
of “will” or “I-ness” by which we come to represent
ourselves and our self-interests within the world.”
This statement, like the quotation at the start of Chapter 16 which I
have started to read, reeks of underlying dogma. The sense of self, will,
I-ness, or what have you, is a priori a neural phenomenon, despite
the fact that no trace of it has ever been observed in a neuron or neural
signal. Again, the observer’s point of view, while dominating the very
definition of the subject-matter, is projected into the conclusions
before they are even stated and is described as a self-evident truth
rather than as an unproven proposition. If the subject is an undefinable
attribute, then Panksepp doesn’t have anything to talk about. To speak of
“confronting the neural nature of that undefineable attribute”
is a statement of pure faith: it says that no matter what definition of
that attribute is offered, the author is devoutly certain that the
attribute has a neural nature. For me, that ends the game right there. It
tells me that this man isn’t interested in searching for the truth,
exactly the same conclusion I reach when someone tells me of man’s
self-evidently divine nature.

When I say I don’t know what awareness is, that is exactly what I mean. I
don’t know whether it’s neural, chemical, fourth-dimensional, or magical.
Nothing we know right now is of any use in answering the question, so if
we really would like to know what awareness is, we had better keep our
mouths shut and observe the phenomena associated with the term as best we
can.

Page 300, not even a full page of text and titled “Central
Theme,” is saturated with confident pronouncements about things
Panksepp can’t possibly know. It’s a popular mode of exposition, but it
leaves me cold.

Best,

Bill P.

3

[From Bruce Gregory (2010.02.11.1654 UT)]

[From Bill Powers (2010.02.11.0835 MST)]
This statement, like the quotation at the start of Chapter 16 which I
have started to read, reeks of underlying dogma. The sense of self, will,
I-ness, or what have you, is a priori a neural phenomenon, despite
the fact that no trace of it has ever been observed in a neuron or neural
signal. Again, the observer’s point of view, while dominating the very
definition of the subject-matter, is projected into the conclusions
before they are even stated and is described as a self-evident truth
rather than as an unproven proposition. If the subject is an undefinable
attribute, then Panksepp doesn’t have anything to talk about. To speak of
“confronting the neural nature of that undefineable attribute”
is a statement of pure faith: it says that no matter what definition of
that attribute is offered, the author is devoutly certain that the
attribute has a neural nature. For me, that ends the game right there. It
tells me that this man isn’t interested in searching for the truth,
exactly the same conclusion I reach when someone tells me of man’s
self-evidently divine nature.

Matthew 7:1-5.

Bruce

4

[From Bruce Abbott (2010.02.11.1515 EST]

Bill Powers (2010.02.11.0835 MST)

···

–

BP:
I’m sure Jaak is a nice guy and a careful experimenter, but to me he
seems singularly unselfconscious about using his private experience and his imagination
as the yardstick against which Nature is to be measured. I have nothing against
such things when done on purpose, but to do them unconsciously implies a lack
of awareness that they can even happen. He says

“All mammals appear to experience pain, anger, fear, and many other raw
feelings, but they do not seem able to cognitively reflect upon such feelings,
as we do.”

BP: The key word is “appear.” It’s
an odd word, when you think about it a little. To say “The animal appears
to be angry” implies that it is the animal or the anger that is doing the
appearing, while the human being merely observes this appearance and reports
it.

I believe that Panksepp used the word “appear” here
out of scientific caution, recognizing that he cannot enter the animal’s
mind and observe directly what the animal is feeling. He is saying that the
observable behavior is consistent with what we human beings observe in our own
behavior when we have such feelings.

Of course that’s the truth, but
not if you think you’re reporting something objective. The observer’s own
perceptual apparatus and the layers of interpretation that convert raw
intensities into named perceptions become invisible. The idea that the observer
is actively imposing his own perceptual and interpretive properties onto his
own sensory inputs is carefully avoided, or else simply not noticed. Either
way, it’s a glaring scientific error, to my way of thinking. It can be
overlooked if it’s just an occasional way of speaking in shorthand. If it’s the
only way of speaking, it’s a statement of religious faith.

So
the statement that animals appear [to the observer] to experience pain, anger,
etc. is a statement of religious faith? No, it’s an interpretation that’s
consistent with the observations and personal experience, and the word “appear”
grants that it’s an interpretation and not an assertion of fact.
There are many examples of religious bias in his writing. He says of other
animals,
“… we cannot understand their brains, or ours for that matter, without
fully confronting the neural nature of that undefinable attribute of mind that
we commonly call our sense of self, our ego – the feeling of “will”
or “I-ness” by which we come to represent ourselves and our
self-interests within the world.”
This statement, like the quotation at the start of Chapter 16 which I have
started to read, reeks of underlying dogma. The sense of self, will, I-ness, or
what have you, is a priori a neural phenomenon, despite the fact that no
trace of it has ever been observed in a neuron or neural signal. Again, the
observer’s point of view, while dominating the very definition of the
subject-matter, is projected into the conclusions before they are even stated
and is described as a self-evident truth rather than as an unproven
proposition. If the subject is an undefinable attribute, then Panksepp doesn’t
have anything to talk about. To speak of “confronting the neural nature of
that undefineable attribute” is a statement of pure faith: it says that no
matter what definition of that attribute is offered, the author is devoutly
certain that the attribute has a neural nature. For me, that ends the game
right there. It tells me that this man isn’t interested in searching for the
truth, exactly the same conclusion I reach when someone tells me of man’s
self-evidently divine nature.

The whole attempt to discover the neural correlates of mental
phenomena rests upon the assumption that mind is either (a) the product of
neural activity, or (b) somehow tightly linked to the brain’s neural
activity. Support for at least Option b is overwhelming: intoxicate the brain,
and the mind becomes intoxicated; damage the brain in particular ways, and specific
mental functions are altered or lost; stimulate the brain via implanted electrodes,
and human beings often report mental experiences that depend on where the brain
is stimulated; interfere with cortical activity in a particular region using
trans-cranial magnetic stimulation, and particular aspects of experience and
mental functioning are altered. I personally believe that the correct answer is
Option a, but we are currently far from being in a position to distinguish
Option a from Option b – and may never be. There is a vast gulf between
the neural activity in the visual cortex (to take one example) and the conscious
perception of the color “blue,” and I have no idea how even to
approach solving that problem. Fortunately, neuroscientists don’t
have to, because practically speaking, all that matters is that one can show
what the relationship is.

Anyone wishing to understand the role of the brain in all this
must begin by embracing the assumption that mental functions and experiences
are products of brain activity; to do otherwise is to give up on the idea that
anything at all about mental functioning and experience can be learned from
such studies. And the history of scientific research on the brain has already
amply justified this assumption. If that center of awareness and sense of self
that I (and it would appear you and a lot of others) have exists
independently of the neural substrate, that will only be provable by showing either
that they continue in the absence of brain activity or that everything about
brain activity is understood and yet cannot explain awareness. Until then, one
might as well proceed, as a practical matter, on the assumption that awareness
depends in some way on a functioning brain.

When I say I don’t know what awareness is, that is exactly what I mean. I don’t
know whether it’s neural, chemical, fourth-dimensional, or magical. Nothing we
know right now is of any use in answering the question, so if we really would
like to know what awareness is, we had better keep our mouths shut and observe
the phenomena associated with the term as best we can.

I’m sure that Panksepp, and every other neuroscientist I
know, would agree. What you take to be a conclusion, a religious dogma, is merely
a necessary assumption for anyone who is going to expend time, energy, money,
and talent trying to through a bit of light on how the brain relates to mental functioning
and conscious experience. It’s an assumption that can be modified or
circumscribed if necessary in the light of the data.

Bruce

5

[From Bill Powers (2010.02.12.0740 MST)]

Bruce Abbott (2010.02.11.1515 EST]

BP earlier: The key word is
“appear.” It’s an odd word, when you think about it a little.
To say “The animal appears to be angry” implies that it is the
animal or the anger that is doing the appearing, while the human being
merely observes this appearance and reports it.

BA: I believe that Panksepp used
the word “appear” here out of scientific caution, recognizing that he
cannot enter the animal’s mind and observe directly what the animal is
feeling. He is saying that the observable behavior is consistent with
what we human beings observe in our own behavior when we have such
feelings.

I know, and I don’t really mean to come down on him so hard, but he is
just another in a long line of psychologists who nibble around the edges
of the subject of emotion without ever coming to grips with it. The
simple question, “What is an emotion?” is skipped over, and
it’s assumed that using common-language terms like anger, fear, love and
feelings is sufficient to define the phenomenon. Well, it’s not, not for
me. We have to get past the words and try to see what the actual
experiences are.

So the statement that animals
appear [to the observer] to experience pain, anger, etc. is a statement
of religious faith? No, it’s an interpretation that’s consistent with the
observations and personal experience, and the word “appear” grants that
it’s an interpretation and not an assertion of fact.

The interpretation may be consistent with observations and personal
experience as far as the words are concerned, but I haven’t seen an
indication that psychologists understand what they are observing and
experiencing when they say an emotion is occurring.

BP earlier: There are many
examples of religious bias in his writing. He says of other
animals,

“… we cannot understand their brains, or ours for that matter,
without fully confronting the neural nature of that undefinable attribute
of mind that we commonly call our sense of self, our ego – the feeling
of “will” or “I-ness” by which we come to represent
ourselves and our self-interests within the world.”

BA: The whole attempt to discover the neural correlates of mental
phenomena rests upon the assumption that mind is either (a) the product
of neural activity, or (b) somehow tightly linked to the brain’s neural
activity. Support for at least Option b is overwhelming: intoxicate the
brain, and the mind becomes intoxicated; damage the brain in particular
ways, and specific mental functions are altered or lost; stimulate the
brain via implanted electrodes, and human beings often report mental
experiences that depend on where the brain is stimulated; interfere with
cortical activity in a particular region using trans-cranial magnetic
stimulation, and particular aspects of experience and mental functioning
are altered. I personally believe that the correct answer is Option a,
but we are currently far from being in a position to distinguish Option a
from Option b – and may never be.

BP: I haven’t developed any faith in either option. Either one might be
the truth – or neither. I am always acutely aware that the only tool I
have available for understanding the brain is – the brain. The brain is
a systematic but somewhat fuzzy idea in my mind. We are not granted any
direct knowledge of it any more than we have direct knowledge of anything
else beyond the senses.

BA: There is a vast gulf
between the neural activity in the visual cortex (to take one example)
and the conscious perception of the color “blue,” and I have no idea how
even to approach solving that problem.

BP: That’s a good start. Now apply it to the idea you express as
“neural activity in the visual cortex.” You will find that you
can’t even approach solving that problem, either. You can be aware of
thoughts on that subject, but explaining how the thoughts can appear and
function as they do is not just a matter of finding the appropriate
words. You can’t even explain what makes them appropriate.
The best we can do is make models and strive for internal consistency.
That idea has always been behind my efforts to develop PCT. I don’t trust
words. When I speak words I get an impression that they mean something,
but even a lazy inspection shows that they don’t have meanings –
they point to meanings. Outside the study of language itself, the
meanings are not words. They are things we experience without words. The
experience of the color indicated by the word “Blue” is not a
word. The experience of the relationship called “between” is
not a word. The levels of perception to which I have tried to point by
using words are not words. The name of a perception is not the perception
that is named. It took me 20 years to arrive at definitions of 9 of them,
and 10 more to find another two, and I’m still uncertain about many of
them. I haven’t seen any signs that modern psychologists even try to
understand themselves or others at that wordless level. That’s why they
haven’t got anywhere, theorywise.

BA: Fortunately,
neuroscientists don’t have to, because practically speaking, all that
matters is that one can show what the relationship is.

BP: To show a relationship between two things you must be able to
perceive relationships, and you must understand all the things that are
to be related. You may understand the functioning of neurons, but you
can’t understand the relationship between neurons and emotions unless you
also, independently, understand emotions. That’s what is missing from
neuroscience. Studying the nervous system is not enough. That’s like
studying a MP3 player but having no understanding of music. What are
neuroscientists trying to understand other than how neurons work and
communicate with other neurons or various kinds of transducers? If that’s
all they’re studying, that’s all they’ll learn about. If you want to find
the relationship between neurons and experience, you must know as much
about your own experiences as you know about neurons.

BA: Anyone wishing to understand
the role of the brain in all this must begin by embracing the assumption
that mental functions and experiences are products of brain activity; to
do otherwise is to give up on the idea that anything at all about mental
functioning and experience can be learned from such
studies.

BP: All right, I hereby give it up. What you learn from studying brain
activity is a list of facts about brain activity. To learn about mental
functions and experiences, you have to make lists of mental functions and
experiences. To put these two fields of study together, you must propose
a model that encompasses what you know about both subjects.

My model of emotion, unfinished though it be, is an attempt to put
neurology together with experience in a single framework. To do that, I
have had to learn not only some neurology and physiology, but what I mean
by words like anger and feelings. When I’m angry, what is it I want to
do? When I say I have angry feelings, exactly what are those experiences
I call feelings?

It turned out that what I had picked up informally from trying to guess
what common language meant was a mess. A feeling was both a set of
sensations and a sense of having them toward or about something else.
Total confusion. I tried to sort out the bodily sensations from the
goals, and ended up with nothing left over. Emotions are sensations from
the body, together with goals, or in PCT, error signals indicating that
the goals have not yet been matched by perceptions.

After many years, I was reminded by others that I had failed to consider
something obvious: the stereotyped control processes that accompany many
emotional states. Stereotyped means species-wide, and nothing about
control behavior can be species-wide unless it’s inherited. However, I
also realized that such behavior isn’t just an on-off phenomenon;
reference signals for such behaviors can be set to produce anything from
a slight grimace and a little stiffness of gait to an all-out violent
attack. “Rage” is just one end of a spectrum. The same is true
of all other extreme emotions. So the model of emotion slowly evolves to
become more consistent with neurology, control theory, and
physiology.

And the history of
scientific research on the brain has already amply justified this
assumption. If that center of awareness and sense of self that I (and it
would appear you and a lot of others) have exists independently of
the neural substrate, that will only be provable by showing either that
they continue in the absence of brain activity or that everything about
brain activity is understood and yet cannot explain
awareness.

I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m reporting that in my experience,
awareness exists. I am aware; I don’t have to prove that to anyone
including myself. There have been times when (I deduce from the evidence)
I was not aware. I was not present during those times; the end of one
period of awareness is followed immediately in memory and present-time
experience by the beginning of another. I don’t have any faith that this
is a neural phenomenon; I don’t have any faith that it’s not. I don’t
care which is the case. It doesn’t bother me if some people say my
attitude is unscientific. If it is, then so much the worse for
science.

Until then, one might as
well proceed, as a practical matter, on the assumption that awareness
depends in some way on a functioning brain.

Why do you have to assume anything? Why not just say “I don’t
know” and go on from there?

Enough for now. Gotta go get checked up to see if my physiology needs
more tweaking. I do wish all these doctors knew what they are doing to my
biochemical systems, but I guess they do have some vague notion, and I
don’t know of anything better.

Best,

Bill P.