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    Looking for clues in the world's biggest brain bank

    http://www.boston.com/dailyglobe2/009/science/What_makes_us_tick_P.shtml

    By Raja Mishra, Globe Staff, 1/9/2001

    Brains aren't gray.

    They're tan, almost yellow. The sliced-up example sitting on Dr. John
    Hedreen's cutting board has the consistency of mushrooms, maybe something
    else.

    ''It's like hard Jell-O,'' he says.

    He slices the brain into quarter-inch slivers with a kitchen knife. Days
    ago, this brain was thinking. It was remembering. It was feeling.
    Perhaps, close to death, it conjured up a lifetime of accomplishments, of
    regrets, of loves.

    Now it is meat.

    ''A very highly organized mushroom,'' says Hedreen, slicing away.

    The 1990s were dubbed the ''Decade of the Brain'' by President George
    Bush. Science made enormous leaps in understanding how the components of
    the brain work. Treatments for fearsome degenerative brain diseases now
    seem attainable. Hedreen works at McLean Hospital's brain bank, also
    known as the Harvard Brain Tissue Resource Center, which sends scientists
    brain samples to conduct research on these illnesses.

    But what of consciousness?

    What is it about that 3-pound hunk of meat that gives rise to the sense
    that our thoughts and feelings and perceptions are unified into one
    bundle that is us? It is a phenomenon so central to life - it's always
    there - yet so elusive. For all our advances, consciousness defies
    explanation.

    In fact, the millennium-long argument over consciousness has grown
    particularly heated in the last decade. Neuroscientists state that they
    can explain consciousness in the familiar language of chemistry and
    biology. Philosphers retort: Foolishness! Theologians fret that God's
    handiwork is being diminished by the whole debate.

    Thinking on the issues basically divides into two camps: Those who argue
    neuroscience will one day figure out the biochemical mechanisms that give
    rise to consciousness, and those who state that the very nature of
    consciousness resists scientific explanation.

    The only consensus is that there is no consensus.

    Hedreen lines up the brain slivers on his cutting table. He points to the
    corner of one, a swirl of tan and yellow.

    ''That's the basal ganglia,'' he says, explaining that it is the part of
    the brain that atrophies during Huntington's disease, eventually causing
    dementia.

    Just a slight change in the consistency of this rubbery little item can
    decimate a lifetime of thoughts and habits.

    ''You can tell just by looking at its colors and shape'' whether the
    brain's former owner had Huntington's, Hedreen says.

    ''This one seems OK.''

    A brain ''junkyard''

    Six freezers line each side of a narrow room in the basement of one of
    the buildings on McLean's vast campus. There is scarcely room for two
    people between the rows.

    Blowing air creates a noisy hum. The freezers' temperature gauges read
    minus 77 degrees Centigrade, or minus 106.6 Fahrenheit.

    This is the vault, in a manner of speaking, of the world's largest brain
    bank, where hundreds of brains - many of them once belonging to people
    who suffered from dementia or other mental illnesses - are stored.
    Opening one of the freezers reveals dozens of clear lunch-bag-size bags
    filled with brain slivers. The frozen slivers are orange. On each bag is
    a hand-scrawled number in black Magic Marker.

    ''This is like a junkyard,'' says Dr. George Tejeda, assistant director
    of the brain bank. ''If someone says, `I'm looking for a carburetor,' I
    tell them: `This is what we have.'''

    What makes cars go can be explained. The internal combustion engine is
    understood from top to bottom. Each function of a car - air filtering,
    steering, exhaust - is easily explained by the engineer, as is the way in
    which they work to together to make the car move.

    Some hope the same one day will be said about the brain and its most
    obvious product - consciousness.

    ''We are quite certain that a naturalistic, mechanistic explanation of
    consciousness is not just possible. It is fast becoming actual,'' Tufts
    University philosopher Daniel Dennett told the Royal Institute of
    Philosophy in England in a millennial lecture last year.

    Dennett is perhaps the most eminent proponent of this view. It holds that
    science will eventually uncover enough about the brain and body to
    explain consciousness. Indeed, neuroscientists are preparing for a
    dramatic increase in brain research in the coming years, including more
    than $350 million for new neuroscience centers at the Massachusetts
    Institute of Technology alone.

    Already, the mechanisms behind many of the bedrock aspects of our
    existence, like emotion and memory and sensory perception, are reasonably
    well understood by scientists, neurologists say. The brain has been
    mapped. The chemicals that influence the brain are being uncovered.

    But how it all combines to create a sense of self - consciousness - is
    still a mystery.

    Dennett and his allies believe the mystery will yield to decades more of
    probing the brain, using various methods of brain imaging as well as the
    postmortem research that originates with the brain tissue at the McLean
    brain bank.

    Just as we progressed from ignorance to general understanding of the
    brain during the 20th century, these optimists believe that perhaps the
    21st century will produce another leap of knowledge that conquers
    consciousness.

    In the room next to the freezers is Tupperware. Lots of it. Hundreds of
    stacks filled with a yellowish green liquid line rows of shelves. In them
    float more brain bits. These are fresh brains, those that arrived so
    intact they didn't require freezing.

    At 9:30 on a recent morning, Tejada received a call from Arizona. A fresh
    brain would arrive within 12 hours. He makes arrangements to staff the
    brain bank late into the evening to receive the precious cargo. He calls
    this ''The Show.''

    In early December, McLean got its 5,000th brain in 22 years of existence.
    Workers have ''The Show'' down to a science. The mechanics of it they
    understand. But the cargo is a different matter.

    ''Sometimes in the middle of the night, I think, what made this person
    get Alzheimers? Then you're tired and you go home,'' Tejada says.

    Mind art

    Dr. Tim Wheelock is no artist but you wouldn't know from looking at his
    computer screen. It is filled with frames of swirling violet masses with
    bluish squiggles. Others are Jackson Pollock-like canvases of red
    smudges, black scribbles and orange flecks.

    These are images of brain tissue taken through Wheelock's microscope -
    local maps of the brain. Wheelock, the brain bank's assistant director of
    histopathology, makes these available, via the Internet, to researchers.

    He pulls up a photo filled with dull red bundles. They're called tangles,
    dead neurons ravaged by Alzheimer's disease.

    ''Debris, like a skeleton,'' he explains.

    When people get enough of these, they start forgetting. But what can
    these colorful screens tell us about what it means to be conscious or how
    it feels to forget?

    ''One difference that will never be bridged is direct personal experience
    and tissue,'' Wheelock says. In other words, no amount of knowledge about
    the brain and its function will ever explain the experience of being
    human.

    That is the position held by another school of thought. We may be able to
    describe the physical parts of the brain, they say, but we will never be
    able to articulate how they create consciousness.

    In the same way that rats don't understand mathematics, we are unable to
    fathom consciousness, some of them argue. Our brains just aren't powerful
    enough.

    ''Consciousness has been discussed for probably thousands of years,''
    said Steven Pinker, an MIT psychology professor and author of the book,
    ''How the Mind Works.''

    ''But it's not a problem that science is ever likely to illuminate.''

    Pinker said he agrees that our minds aren't capable of understanding
    consciousness. Another example of such a shortcoming, he explained, is
    the Big Bang, which physicists believe created the universe. The natural
    question is: What happened before the Big Bang. A physicist would say
    that time simply didn't exist and there was no before. But that doesn't
    make intuitive sense.

    ''My own mind is tricking me into thinking that before and after are
    relevant to the Big Bang,'' Pinker said.

    In similar fashion, consciousness is something beyond our comprehension,
    he said.

    It may all seem rather esoteric, but anyone who has worked in the brain
    sciences profession ponders the issue quite frequently. Just ask those at
    the brain bank.

    ''It's hard to say where consciousness resides at all,'' says Wheelock
    sitting in front of his terminal at the brain bank.

    But he has his theories. His latest involves the pre-central gyrus, also
    known as part of the primary motor cortex or Brodmann Area 4. It begins
    at the top of our heads and goes into the center of our brains. This is
    where much of our immediate sensory data is processed - where we are, the
    temperature, what we are touching.

    ''It gives us a sense we are in the world,'' he explains.

    Wheelock suggests running tests on those with damage to this area, asking
    them if their consciousness is impaired. But how would they know? What
    would they have to compare themselves to? And how would we know that what
    that person was experiencing was a lack of what we understand as
    consciousness?

    ''Yeah, it's complicated, isn't it?'' he says with a laugh.

    Ghosts in the machine

    ''I'll never forget the day I saw my first brain,'' says Dr. Francine M.
    Benes, director of the brain bank.

    It was 32 years ago and Benes was in graduate school. The brain was in a
    bucket, plucked from a man who had just died.

    ''This organ was capable of thinking thoughts just a few hours ago,'' she
    says. ''I thought: `What is it that transformed it from this exquisite
    organ to this dead lump?'''

    At that time, neuroscience as we know it did not exist. Only a handful of
    philosophers pondered consciousness. Serious scientists hardly considered
    it. At the time, an idea called dualism by academics reigned. To a great
    extent, it still does.

    Dualists believe in the soul, the spirit, the ''ghost in the machine.''
    It is something that is not matter - and therefore unmeasurable by
    science - yet gives us consciousness and makes us individuals.

    Most scientists consider this wishful mysticism: How can something not
    made of matter influence the matter in our bodies? Yet, absent a
    compelling explanation of consciousness, the soul remains a powerful idea
    in almost every culture.

    In 1978, when the brain bank was founded, most scientists were skeptical
    that studying dead brains would produce useful results. It's as if they
    were crying: ''What good is a brain without the soul?''

    But breakthroughs in the understanding of Alzheimer's disease convinced
    skeptics. Now there are about 200 brain banks in the United States. And
    that has many scientists optimistic that, once again, science will
    triumph.

    ''I think in my lifetime we'll see big breakthroughs in how the human
    brain is wired and how it works,'' Benes said. ''It really is the final
    frontier.''

    This story ran on page F01 of the Boston Globe on 1/9/2001. © Copyright
    2001 Globe Newspaper Company.

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