Tomorrow's People

by Susan Greenfield

  So what is the lure of belonging just to one utterly exclusive group that demands so much – the entire heart and mind of an individual? A crucial aspect is the terrorist's image of those outside the movement, the enemy, as victimizers. Clearly, the terrorist must be in an oppressed minority for this idea to take hold, and irrespective of the reality of the situation the oppression must be perceived as extreme: a recurring theme of goodies and baddies. You are either on one side or the other – totally right or wrong. And once in the realm of cowboys and indians the mythical qualities of the situation exert a simple but great appeal.

  ‘The heart fed on fantasy, grown brutal from the fare,’ wrote Yeats. In quoting him (in an essay, ‘The Mind of a Terrorist’, included in the BBC's book on 9/11, The Day that Shook the World) the political journalist Fergal Keane underscores the power of mythology in shaping a collective cult consciousness. It is ‘necessary to narrow the mind’ to ensure the rigid adherence to a simple, single idea. In the 20th century this tactic was used, Keane says, by the Irish Christian Brothers, working with the IRA for an Ireland completely independent of Britain. Another particular, very different, example was the novel Jud Süss – a book initially intended as an argument against anti-Semitism – twisted at Goebbels’ behest in 1940 to make a film which presented a subliminal argument in favour of ethnic cleansing. In this Nazi film the main character is a powerful 18th-century businessman from the Jewish ghetto, a hook-nosed rapist who embodies every savage caricature dreamt up by the anti-Semitic propaganda of the Third Reich. This ‘bad guy’ is hanged in the final scene for his crimes against the pure white Aryan women. In another move to create cult consciousness the Nazis also propagated the myth of the lost City of Atlantis, casting themselves as the descendants of a god-like race. And another basic plank to their culture of the ‘warrior society’ was Norse mythology featuring Odin and Thor, bellicose gods whose warlike glamour made them appropriate role models.

  The romance of heroes and myths in warrior-like cults is clearly a hugely powerful factor that might have been underestimated. Osama bin Laden apparently routinely evokes nostalgic and angry memories of the medieval Crusades against the Infidel. The alleged insult still to be redressed is the massacre of Muslims by the Crusaders when they captured Jerusalem.

  Whether such self-righteous, unforgiving indignation arises either in a group or in an individual, in every case the underlying drive is a thirst for revenge as a result of an attack on self-esteem. Given the extremity of feeling, and the polarization of right and wrong, a lack of empathy – an inability to put oneself in another's shoes – is perhaps not surprising. And if you know you are so utterly in the right, then clearly you must completely defeat your opponent, who is utterly wrong. You will be fighting for your psychological life: any slight or moderate deviation from the opinions of you and your comrades you will see as an insult and threat.

  Given such single-mindedness, it is not surprising to find that membership of a terrorist group or cult suppresses many normal human behaviours – the different drives that E. O. Wilson described in his classic study, On Human Nature. The desire for sex, for example, is irrelevant compared to the over-riding mission, and indeed cult leaders often lack stable relationships. The normal, important desires for tranquillity, for order and for independence are also culturally over-ridden. By contrast, the basic human needs for power, honour and status are fuelled disproportionately – even though the status is collective rather than personal, of being completely right and yet persecuted.

  Yet this is a ‘chicken and egg’ problem. It is impossible to say whether a personality that is already so emotionally lopsided is particularly drawn to cults or whether membership of such a group pulls and pushes the fabric of your mind out of shape. One neurological ‘explanation’ for the terrorist mindset is that there may be damage to an area at the front of the brain, the prefrontal cortex, which happens to be very dominant in humans – twice the size it should be for a primate of our body weight.

  One idea is that the checks and balances that are normally in operation as we go about our daily lives are, for whatever reason, absent in the brain of a murderer. This has also been suggested, incidentally, about schizophrenia. In both cases, allegedly, brain scans show a malfunctioning prefrontal cortex. Yet this type of approach brings with it many problems. First, whatever the physical aberration within the neuronal whirring of the prefrontal cortex might be, it is similar for a broad spectrum of dysfunctions; but remember that terrorist thinking can be clearly distinguished from that of the psychopath – the psychopath shows immediate and direct emotional aggression whilst the terrorist uses violence as an instrument, a means to an end. A better line to pursue might be to ask what the common factor in psychopathy and terrorism could be, perhaps some kind of weakened grasp of ‘reality’: we could then see how such an impairment could be explained in terms of the malfunctioning prefrontal cortex.

  But then we come to the second problem: how is a ‘grasp of reality’, be it strong or weak, realized in the interstices of the physical brain? The prefrontal cortex is related to working memory – the ability humans have in particular abundance to keep salient rules in play at any one moment. But this cannot be its sole ‘function’: this same brain region is hyperactive in depression, underactive in schizophrenia. Moreover, damage here can lead to source amnesia, not memory loss as such but the loss of time and space frames of reference for a particular event. Taken altogether then, the prefrontal cortex is not a mini-brain in its own right, not the ‘centre for’ any particular trait; rather neurons project from there as input to the rest of the brain, to drive the landscape of global brain connections into a configuration that in some way enables conscious access to a myriad of associations. It is these associations, this personalization of the brain, that enable us to have a stable and consistent view of the world – a view that is absent or unstable in the otherwise very different conditions of infancy, schizophrenia and indeed dreaming. Yet arguably all three, infancy, schizophrenia and dreaming, though very different, are examples of the same scenario, in which the constraints of the adult brain, garnered through daily life, are, for different reasons, not available. We cannot explain terrorism therefore in any meaningful way, by recourse simply to the prefrontal cortex.

  Now we come to a third difficulty: even if a terrorist willingly volunteered to have his or her brain scanned, and even if certain brain regions were active in a pattern different from that seen in everyone else, it would still be hard to speak of a neurology of terrorism. Brain scans, as we saw in Chapter 3, give only a very crude picture at the moment. Just like the very first cameras, whose exposures were too long to capture movement – hence the photographs were all devoid of people – current imaging is too slow to capture the sub-second coherence of tens of millions of brain cells working together for a moment of consciousness. Furthermore, even though certain configurations of brain regions might be different from those in the brains of non-terrorists, we still would not be able to tell what was happening, what the ‘function’ of the particular brain regions might be.

  Most important of all, such a brain image would not even tell us whether the unusual brain state was indeed the root cause of the terrorist's thinking. There is still the issue of whether the abnormal neuronal landscape has led to extremist, fanatical acts or whether the act of thinking like a terrorist has shaped the ongoing physico-chemical state of the brain. In brief then, an aberrant prefrontal cortex, or any malfunctioning area lighting up on a brain scan, really tells us very little, especially about the ‘cause’ of a terrorist's thinking.

  Nonetheless the chicken and egg dilemma is critical if we are considering when an individual is accountable for their actions. For example, in 2001 Keydrick Jordan was spared the death penalty because of a psychologically flawed upbringing, which purportedly left him brain damaged; the scans were brought into court. And even more recently the musician Peter Buck, of the rock band REM, was acquitted of a series of charges after
attacking a flight attendant; his defence was that a sleeping-pill had reacted badly with the wine he had drunk, causing him to be ‘not himself’ – but rather what is described in legal terminology as a ‘non-insane automaton’. Still, note that the term emphasizes the robot-like aspect of Buck's action, and his absence of free will.

  Increasingly, people may start to point to genes, to drugs, to childhood experiences and to brain scans to explain their behaviour, as we become more and more familiar with the different biochemical bit players and layered circuitry on all levels of brain function, and how they come together in the crude snapshots that imaging currently allows. In general, we will have to confront the big issue of whether science has made us less accountable for our actions, whether the apparent determinism suggested by various scientific observations is indeed real. If so, where do we draw the line? Could bin Laden plead that faulty genes caused him to orchestrate the 9/11 attacks? If not, why should a distinction be made between him and Stephen Mobley, who, we saw in Chapter 5, is using such an argument as mitigation in his trial for murder?

  In all cases we must be clear what we mean by the term ‘individual’, if questioning individual accountability. Although the law has long recognized the concept of mens rea – the state of mind indicating the culpability that is required by statute as an element of a crime – science is now challenging how easily that concept can be applied. The influence of alcohol or medication differs from a disrupted childhood or disrupted genes, affecting a state of consciousness rather than a lifelong mindset.

  An obvious similarity between defences resting on alcohol or road rage is that the changed state is a short-term, acute one: consciousness tilts for a moment, and you ‘lose your mind’ – you do not access for that moment the appropriate associations. But the problems ensuing from genes or from childhood are longer term, chronic, reflecting the mind itself, the enduring configurations of neuronal connections. Now, we have seen that terrorists do not suffer from any conventional psychiatric disorder, and indeed that they do not have an unnatural tendency for emotional aggression, as a psychopath might. So the problem is not apparently one of a loss of mind, as in road rage; rather the terrorist's quintessence is a more enduring state of mind, one that has been, by all usual standards, twisted. The neuronal connections that make up the mind of the terrorist are not based on a single faulty gene – not least because such a thing is unlikely to exist – but rather on a complex set of dysfunctional ongoing circumstances that have made up that particular life narrative, and on the ongoing environment to which the individual is exposed.

  There is no sign whatsoever that such predisposing environmental circumstances will abate in the future – in fact, given current cultural, political and economic trends, they can only be set to increase. Hardly surprising then that many think that we will see an increase in the more chilling ‘apocalyptic’ brand of terrorism, with no basis for rational discussion nor any restraining fear of death – either for oneself or others. In 1999 bin Laden proclaimed that ‘hostility toward America is a religious duty’, and it is hard to be optimistic that, with this belief, he will not go on to try to kill millions. So in the future how might terrorism be stopped?

  In any ‘solution’ science will play a part. First, in the most obvious way, if a strong pre-emptive strike is required. Here the physical weaponry of traditional warfare will be harnessed, to greater or lesser extent under cyber-control, to cause physical damage to people and property. Secondly, more subtly, sophisticated IT will be used to develop an effective counter-intelligence strategy. However, neither of these would ‘solve’ the problem of terrorists who put little premium on material objects, nor indeed on life itself.

  I have suggested that the problem of apocalyptic terrorism will never be completely ‘solved’, since we are confronting a mentality that has no reverence for individual life. Yet most of us need to believe in something more important than life: unlike all other animals we know we are going to die, so we give life and death a meaning. There are even formal experiments that show that the more humans think about their own death the more strongly they embrace the values of their culture. The terrorist mentality is surely an extreme example of this link working in reverse: embracing such strong values, death is omnipresent but less relevant.

  So surely we should tackle what terrorists themselves prize, not territorial conquest or individual lives but global conquest of hearts and minds. Think of terrorists as at the top of a community pyramid of like-minded folk with a graded intensity of views. The hard-core extremists must constantly recruit and mobilize from the lower, more moderate levels of the pyramid – the all-important sympathetic community. Extremely aggressive retaliation, like the bombing of civilians in Afghanistan, will serve only to create more supporters of the grievance that fuels the terrorists' cause. Meanwhile, the biggest enemies of the terrorists are the moderates on their own side: an effective way forward might therefore be to avoid a knee-jerk reaction of stereotyping and prejudice against all moderates of any religion, race, nationality and culture similar to the terrorists, and to seek instead to divide and rule. And if we wish to marginalize the extremists, then we need to harness technology to create the kind of life that will reverse any discontent, hardship and distress that fuels the mythology of oppression. We need to give people back a sense of their own personal identity, rather than a collective one. We need to give them back a private life.

  Perhaps 21st-century technology does indeed hold the promise of physical ease and sensory gratification for everyone. If you buy into the idea that the mind is the personalization of the brain, the organization of neuronal connections through experience, then that brain will be highly vulnerable to 21st-century technology. As this technology becomes more pervasive then in theory anyone anywhere in the world could start to live in a cyber-world – a world where no one is accountable, everything is determined and everyone becomes increasingly passive and reactive, perhaps losing not only the rarefied curiosity that drives science but also their own identity individual or collective. IT may open a window onto other cultures but only if humanity has retained a mind enquiring enough to peer out.

  If we had, in the future, the combined force of IT, biotech and nanotech, might we eventually be able to lull not just the moderates but the terrorists themselves into a happier frame of mind? But there would be no easy segregation of those ‘deserving’ to be so targeted and those able and willing to exercise a free mind, no obvious distinction between those who might be disaffected and become sympathetic to terrorists and free-thinking, broad-minded, rational individuals like ourselves. And if there were, it would be an elite of the most pernicious kind. So instead, assume that we would all be appropriately manipulated. Would we want a society, call it outcome A, in which we are all free from the fear of terrorism, ‘happy’ and physically very comfortable, but at the same time have abrogated personal responsibility?

  A second scenario, outcome B, is the polar opposite: there is no physical comfort or freedom from mental persecution and misery. You are an individual with a brain that has escaped the intervention of modern technologies: but, as in times gone by, your mind is imprisoned within your own interior. You are unable to express to the outside world your emotional or material needs because of the constraints of the narrow-minded, uncompromising society in which you live. Such would be the result – so long as nuclear war had not erupted – of a repressive, fundamentalist state of the type promulgated by the current generation of apocalyptic terrorists.

  In the short term such a dichotomy is, of course, crass and overly simplistic. Probably what will happen is that we shall continue into an ever-pervasive grey area, that uneasy world that is neither war nor peace. Our lives will become edgy and insecure, accompanied by anxiety every time we board a plane, ride an elevator to the top of a skyscraper or open a bulky envelope. It will be a life dominated by security alerts, by tragic newsflashes, by flashing warnings of air contamination, by diverse devices on our person and ar
ound the house anticipating cyber- and biological or chemical attack. Perhaps such uncertainty will be the only element of chance in an increasingly techno-controlled lifestyle. Above all, you will still have a chance of being you: outcome C. But can such tension continue? If so, surely it will change us in any event. Perhaps the perpetual fear will drive us increasingly to seek out the oblivion of drugs or a saccharine cyber-never-never-world: outcome D.

  The alternatives are stark. In outcome A, you would effectively no longer have a mind of your own, though you would have the physical potential to express it, whilst in outcome B the potential for individuality would remain, though the physical external conduits would be denied you. Both outcomes represent a loss of your human potential; in the latter case you would be aware of your predicament whilst in the former you would not. In terms of your mind, outcome C is a more moderate version of outcome B, whilst outcome D is a less complete version of outcome A. So the basic question is whether or not we end up retaining any sense of individuality in a compromised environment. Is that individuality, the birthright of each human being, more robust than the external influences that could become utterly controlling; or are we facing up to the bleak prospect that for the first time in some 50,000 years human nature will be transformed?

  9

  Human Nature: How robust will it be?

  We started our journey into the future by simply wandering around a new type of home smiling, gasping or shrugging at all the various gadgets. But from the outset the big issue has not really been the lifestyle that these clever devices will make possible; more fundamental still are the attitudes that the new technologies will engender in the late-21st-century you – how you will view reality and, most important of all, how you will see yourself. The single biggest difference between the present and the future you is that in the future you will be living in a fundamentally different world where there are no clear categories of any type, from the most banal physical objects to the most slippery mental concepts.