by Samuel ScopelIn Chapter 3 of The Encultured Brain, which focuses on social cognition in primates, the authors cite evidence suggesting that expansion of the visual system is characteristic of the primate brain. While improved vision is beneficial for a number of reasons, such as locating food, predator avoidance, etc., none of these are unique to the lives of primates, and primates are not particularly noteworthy for their visual acuity within the larger mammal family. One explanation proposed by a number of studies is that sociality contributed to this expansion. Recognizing visual cues, such as body or facial gestures, and evaluating these cues within their larger social context requires significant visual processing capacity.
In “Signals use by leaders in Macaca tonkeana and Macaca mulatta: group-mate recruitment and behaviour monitoring,” the authors examine the interplay between visual cues and coordinated social movements. In primates that live in groups, there are often specific areas designated for a given activity such as foraging or resting. To retain the benefits conferred by performing activities as a social unit, movement between these areas must be done as a group and requires consensus among the individuals composing the group. In this study, Sueur and Petit examine the visual cues utilized by the individual initiating the movement as well as how those cues are modulated based on the members of the group that chose join. In Tonkean and rhesus macaques, the primate species observed during the study, the individual wishing to initiate a collective movement will begin moving in the desired direction and pauses and back-glances cue other group members of the intent. The authors monitored how the frequency of both these cues affected the actions of fellow group members, and how the number and identity of the joiners affected the behavior of the initiator. In general, pauses and back-glances decreased significantly when the desired individuals joined the initiator in both species. The authors grappled with whether pausing was a direct cue to specific group members to join the effort or an expression of uncertainty on the part of the individual initiating the movement. If pausing was an expression of general uncertainty, then pausing should decrease with the number of contemporaries joining the movement regardless of who the joiners were. Interestingly, the authors observed that pausing only decreased when certain members joined the group, suggesting that the pause signal was intended to recruit specific group members to join the action. The only substantive difference noted between species was that Tonkean macaques tended to emphasize recruiting affiliated individuals and rhesus macaques decreased pauses when kin-related individuals joined. The authors hypothesized back-glances were mainly used to monitor the number/identities of the group members joining the collective effort. One limitation noted by the authors was the semi-free ranging conditions in which these observations were performed. The distances between individuals was lower and general visibility higher than what would be found in natural populations. Other behavioral factors, such as calls, may play a more significant role in natural conditions. This study highlights just one example of how visual indicators contribute to social efforts and facilitate group cohesion. It stands to reason, given the number and variety of activities in which primates take part in a social context, that the expansion of the area of the brain responsible for visual processing observed in primates would provide a selective advantage. While this study alone is insufficient evidence for this proposition, one could imagine how sociality could function as a positive feedback loop driving evolution of regions of the brain that are critical for operating within it. Primates that are more effective at coordinating social activities (ie resource management, group defense, etc.) would lead to fewer individuals being lost to predation or other miscellaneous selective pressures that are more evident in species that can only operate in a solitary capacity. This would, in turn, lead to a more pronounced emphasis on the refinement of inter-individual communication and the physical structures or processes associated with it. Paper: Sueur, C. & Petit, O. Signals use by leaders in Macaca tonkeana and Macaca mulatta: Group-mate recruitment and behaviour monitoring. Animal Cognition 13, 239–248 (2010).
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by Brian RiveraIn this chapter Katherine MacKinnon and Agustin Fuentes provide a biological and evolutionary context for the discussion of human cognition and niche construction. This context is based on primate studies that shed light on the internal working of primate social life and cognition. By seeing the social organizational and behavioral range exhibited by other primates, it is hoped that the reader would get a better baseline to understand what is uniquely human and what is shared across the taxonomic order. This is spelled out as one of the key questions in the chapter “…how does taking a broader look across the Primate order provides a useful framework for understanding the role of an evolved social cognition?”
To better get a sense of the distance at which other primates stand it might be helpful to become familiar with the scientific classification of primates. Humans belong to the genus Homo, the Homini tribe (along with chimpanzees), the Homininae subfamily (along with gorillas), the Hominidae family (along with orangutans) all previous forming “the great apes”, the Simiiformes infraorder (including old and new world monkeys – gibbons, baboons, and spider monkeys) more commonly called just “monkeys”, the Haplorhini suborder (along with tarsiers), and finally the Primates order (along with lemurs). While it should go without saying that humans are not descendants from any of the current primates (but rather humans shared a common ancestor with them), it should be noted that the more proximal two species of primates are in this taxonomic tree, the more genetically similar they are. Therefore, humans are closer genetically to the chimpanzee in their Homini tribe than to orangutans in their Hominidae family. While the chapter provided insight into social and cognitive patters in a variety of different primate species, being aware of this taxonomic can help situate these findings. The framing of the chapter is not simply to learn facts about primate biology or about studies with these groups of primates. Rather, the hope is to develop a framework for understanding evolved capacities found in humans. For example, given that we can see sociality as a pervasive feature of primate evolution present in most primate species, it makes sense to inquire about the type of cognition necessary to successfully live and thrive in a social environment. Then we can ask to what degree this cognitive ability is shared across other species and to what degree it varies across different instances of the same species. This is also a key piece of the framework this chapter hopes to develop. How much variation (of a given biological feature, behavior, or behavioral practice) do you find within and across species? All primates seem to have a large brain in proportion to total body weight (with a convoluted neocortex) however there is also much variation in brain size within the order from the mouse lemur to the modern human. This, to reiterate, would help situate and gain insights from human brain to body ratio. The socio-ecological variability found across primates provides a powerful lens through which to investigate human evolutionary origins. The authors summarize this perfectly stating: “Ecological pressures, the social landscape, and other elements in an individuals’ life history elicit responses govern by the parameters set by physiology, environment, and experience.” This statement already highlights how flexible and dynamic one’s own understanding of primate evolution needs to be if we are to extract useful lessons to apply to our understanding of humans. The chapter also presents some of the history and chronology of primatology. One of the key pieces of this history is the grounding of human cognition in a Neo-Darwinian theory in the 1970s and 1980s that extended to questions of human morality, aggression, and personality. Another key piece of this history is the shift in theory that comes about with the increase in the number of studies and the number of species studied (from only great apes to hominines). This shifts forces a move away from generalized “primate patterns” to observed a variety of behavioral adaptations. But amongst the biological features shared across primates we find reliance of visual pathways, extended periods of infant-dependency, enlarged brain-to-body size ratio, and sociability and group living. Two specific methodological/theoretical tools for examining primate groups are mentioned: niche construction and social network analysis. Niche construction defined as the modification of the functional relationship between organisms and their environments by altering factors of the environment specifically highlights the complexity of primate evolution brought about by the high degrees of interactions (via feedback loops) between primates and their environment. As expressed in the book, extended period of child rearing brings about different group dynamics that increases predation avoidance. This in turn forces predators to adapt to different pray further reducing pressure of predation, which then allowed for increase niche construction through range exploration, social interactions, and foraging opportunities. Part of the niche of primates includes the social group, which is nested under multiple layers of complexity. Social network analysis is a way to understand this complexity by keeping track of the interactions between individuals, the patterns of their relationships, and the population characteristics of the social niche. One final characterization of the chapter is the discussion about brain growth in particular with its relation sociality. The extended period of dependency characterizes primates from other mammals. A newborn wildebeest would be able to stand and walk just after 7 minutes of being born. It would reach full sexual maturity after only 4 years. This is in stark comparison to newborn humans who would take longer than a year to be able to walk and more than a decade to reach sexual maturity. But it seems to be the ability to navigate through and manipulate the social dynamics of the group what primate brains seem uniquely adapted to do. The evidence for this is that not just brain volume, specifically neocortex volume, correlates with sociability (not just group size but the complexity of relations). Of particular importance is the mother-infant relationship given that the extended dependency period seen in primates poses a cost primarily to the mother (which in turn might have driven alloparenting). How does all of this inform Neuroanthropology? While the chapter does a lot to balance primatology history, methods, with case examples in its short length, it can seem at times unclear how it contributes to neuroanthropology. For example, it is not clear how we should judge the particular studies referenced in their relevance for understanding human behavior. If some lab experiments are faulty in their design how could we learn to distinguish a valid study with captive primates? What differences would we expect from those studies with primates in the field? To better be able to realize the information that primatology can provide it would also be advantageous to understand the ways in which early Homo (Homo erectus, Homo habilis, etc.) species vary. While all of these species are extinct and do not lend themselves to study like primatology, the discussion about the emergence of bipedalism, the arms race between the pelvic bone and brain size, the use of fire, and the increase in brain size have much to contribute to our understanding of human nervous system evolution. Additionally, there are some (if not many) negative aspects of social human behavior that we can also find reflected in primate evolution. Conflict, aggression, group violence, and infanticide, are all primate behaviors, which vary starkly from chimpanzees to their close cousins bonobos, for example. This comparison shows chimps being more violent and aggressive than bonobos, a violence recognizable in human history. It would have been interesting to see how it varies across other primates as well. The authors also state in the conclusion that “what we share socially and cognitively, not where we differ, that can inform neuroanthropology.” But it is not clear what is not shared and how to tell the difference. Furthermore, it seems odd to limit the contributions of primatology to neuroanthropology to only shared features. The study of cephalopods (such as the squid and octopus) has much to say about the development of nervous systems in general (but also for the human nervous system) particularly because of how different it is from that of the human. It seems that the chapter’s conclusion leaves an unclear link between primatology and neuroanthropology. While it highlights the importance of how sociality can create feedback loops that fundamentally modify the environment (allowing the extension of caring beyond kin), it remains unclear how this process “…changes the selective equation” in terms of genes and phylogeny (in particular as to how it would affect the primate evolutionary branch of humans). If evolutionary biology is to inform the development of humans, it is not enough to say that some primates evolved the capacity for great sociality, but rather a link must then be made as to how that capacity could have been inherited by modern humans. Questions? What are the first human specific behaviors that come to mind? What are some non-human primate specific behaviors that come to mind? What makes them be one or the other (are they learned or physiological)? What are the ways in which primatology inform Neuroanthropology? The author states “If we remove the exclusivity of neo-Darwinian views of evolution, add the ideas of [developmental systems theory], niche construction, and social and symbolical inheritance and place them in the context of ethnographic knowledge, archeological histories, contingency in human behavior and individual agency, we can derive better anthropological answers.” What are “better anthropological answers”? Better than what? by Jennifer FortunatoIn Dunbar and Schultz, they discuss the topic of how and why the brain has evolved to be larger, compared to body size, in mammals. They initially discuss ecologically and ontogenetically important reasons for why this may have occurred, for example foraging and efficient energy use respectively. They then go deeper into the social aspect of why the brain has gotten larger in mammals, and a few other species including birds. They consider social complexity, pair bonds, and the microbiology of the brain to try to explain why the brain has gotten larger in these species than needed to maintain the body.
Dunbar and Shultz’s analysis of social complexity involves discussion of the importance of living in a social group and the challenges that come with it. For example, the authors examine how group cohesion and brain size relate to one another. Group cohesion mechanisms such as technical innovation and food acquisition via social learning comes with survival and increased effectiveness in reproduction. This group cohesion correlates with a larger brain size. Another beneficial aspect of social groups is minimizing predation risk. They argue that the selection pressure to minimize predation risk by being social will increase brain size due to those who have larger brain having higher fitness. The authors also extend their analysis beyond primates to other related species such as birds, bats, and ungulates (hoofed animals). They recognized that there are some mixed results in attempts to apply sociality as a reason for increased brain size in these other animal species. Dunbar and Shultz briefly discuss the hypothesis that sexual selection is a driver of larger brain sizes but conclude that there is no evidence for this. They then go on to discuss pairbonds as an important factor in brain size evolution. Anthropoid, or human like, primates have, according to multiple data sources, a positive correlation between brain and social group size. An issue that the authors came across was what bondedness actually entails as they determined it is an emotional state rather than one that can be quantified. Dunbar and Shultz argue for the idea that higher vertebrates, such as primates, have a more complex version of social bonding than other species. They do so by analyzing how social relationships in primates differ from those of other species because the social interaction to benefit the group will benefit the individual’s fitness down the line. Microneurobiology is the last point that Dunbar and Shultz discuss. They shortly discuss the function of hormones and genes in the role of brain growth. The authors dismiss these two aspects as an important role in brain growth and sociality. They relate these mechanistic approaches to developmental approaches to analyze brain size. Though an informative article in articulating possible solutions for the problem of brain size and brain growth, I do have a few criticisms. Dunbar and Shultz focus on entirely on sociality being a fundamental driver for the increase in brain size. However, sociality could be a by-product of ecological and life history constraints (Brooks et al. 2017, Armitage 1981). This would indicate that it is these constraints that actually influence brain size rather than sociality itself. Also, in direct contradiction is a later article by DeCasien et al. (2017) that argues that primate brain size is predicted by diet and not sociality. This furthers the argument for increased brain size being more related to ecological factors than sociality. Dunbar and Shultz also discuss the importance of having a large brain in comparison to body size as an important feature of mammals and birds and how that relates to sociality. However, they fail to take into account both invertebrates, such as ants, and very large mammals, such as whales, whose brain sizes are considerably larger or smaller respectively. Both ants and whales have complex social structures but have completely different brain size to body ratio with ants having 14% and whales having less than 1% of their body weight being their brain (Seid et al 2011, Koch 2016). This seems to go against Dunbar and Shultz’s argument that having a larger brain is a strong correlate with sociality. Overall, this article brings up good points about the evolution of social brain in primates, though it does leave out an entire group of social insects. Dunbar and Shultz have brought up a multitude of avenues of study for neuroanthropologists. For example, analyzing how bondedness can be quantified in non-human primates. Another line of study could be the integration of molecular, behavioral, and phylogenetic data of how the social brain has come to evolve both in size and other aspects. As neuroanthropology is an integrative field, the integration of multiple techniques from psychology, biology, and anthropology can be utilized to understand the evolution of the size of brain in a social context. References:
Review of “An Illness of Power: Gender and the Social Causes of Depression” by Alex B. Neitzke4/26/2016 by Larry MonocelloIn this article, Neitzke argues that the higher prevalence of diagnosis of depression in women cross-culturally is the result of the biomedical framework’s removal of a patient from her social surroundings. She argues that this removal obscures the fact that a diagnosis is often made without consideration of the fact that women live in “a patriarchal system of gender as it interacts with a social, political, and economic order…limits or altogether preventing the examination of social and economic mechanisms in the causal pathways of mental disorders” (60). She argues that the DSM-III’s definition of depression mapped to “feminine” behaviors and characteristics, and, circularly, depression became “identified with women, as primarily a disease of women” (62). Statistics, showing that women suffered from depression more often than men, “objectively” legitimated the category. Further, the mechanistic analogies used by biomedicine, and therefore the assumptions biomedical researchers and practitioners come to espouse as reality, served to “bracket-out gender and other social influences” (63), denying them the ability to attribute their “disorder” to anything other than their biology.
One of the many strengths of this article is the author’s attention to ethnographic work on depression. Referencing anthropologists work on depression cross-culturally, she shows that the experience of depression is culturally constructed. She explains how, in some cultures that valorize instead of marginalize the depressed (e.g., Gaines and Farmer’s (1986) work on the Visible Saints of France), outcomes and experience are different. She argues that the biomedical/psychiatric model of depression is disempowering to women for that very reason: the culture around depression is hostile, and yet the culture is not considered in the model, erasing a very real factor from consideration. As a result, she calls for a truly biopsychosocial model of depression to address this flaw. Importantly, Neitzke notes that her criticism of the biomedical psychiatric model of depression as erasing the consideration of gender can also be extended to considering the erasure of sexuality and race/ethnicity. This made me consider a couple of questions that I would like to leave up for discussion: Over the course of the semester—aside from our discussion of poverty—we haven’t spent much time discussing the experience of marginalized groups (sexual and racial minorities, women, etc.). Critically considering the topics of past discussions, how do you think that the utilization of a feminist or racially-sensitive lens would affect our interpretations of what we have read thus far? Is a feminist/racial/queer neuroanthropology necessary? Is it even possible? What would it look like? Neitzke, Alex B. 2016. "An Illness of Power: Gender and the Social Causes of Depression." Culture Medicine and Psychiatry 40 (1):59-73. doi: 10.1007/s11013-015-9466-3. by Jake Aronoff In this study, Kohrt et al. (2015) examined gene-environment interactions in relation to phenotypic expressions of depression and PTSD as well as a biological marker in the form of cortisol awakening responses. This study is unique in that it examines a specific gene-environment interaction in an unconventional setting: Nepal. The authors note that while there has been increased attention in global mental health, studies have focused mostly on populations in high income countries and of European descent. Thus, the authors intended to examine whether previously reported relations between specific genetic profiles, childhood maltreatment, and adult expressions of depression and PTSD were also present in a population outside of a high income country and not of European descent.
The gene of interest to the researchers was FKBP5. Previous studies have examined alleles of this gene, and found interactions with child abuse and later life risk for depression as well as PTSD. Thus, the researchers wanted to see if this interaction could also be observed in a population conventionally not studied. Along with examining depression and PTSD, they also measured cortisol awakening responses. Cortisol awakening responses were measured because of the role FKBP5 has in the stress response as well as the fact that depression and PTSD are stress-related. The stress response relies on the hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal (HPA) axis, and its functioning can be altered by FKBP5. Certain alleles of FKBP5 can do this by enhancing the gene’s expression. This results in a decreased efficiency of negative HPA feedback (the brain knowing when to turn off the stress response), which prolongs HPA activation after exposure to a stressor. Cortisol, a steroid hormone, is the end product of the HPA axis, being produced by the adrenal gland. Thus, the cortisol awakening responses served as biological markers for the functioning of the HPA axis that can be altered by different alleles of FKBP5. The researchers found an interaction of a specific genotype with childhood maltreatment and depression, but not PTSD. The genotype found to have the highest risk for developing PTSD in the presence of child abuse in a previous study was associated with the most severe depressive symptoms. Also observed in individuals with this genotype were opposite cortisol awakening responses depending on presence of childhood maltreatment. For individuals with this genotype who experienced childhood maltreatment, their cortisol levels dropped from the time of waking to thirty minutes later, whereas the opposite occurred in individuals with this same genotype who did not experience childhood maltreatment. For these individuals, cortisol levels rose from the time of waking to thirty minutes later. The researchers posit that individuals with this genotype may be more sensitive to early environmental conditions, and are more likely to experience epigenetic changes in the expression of FKBP5 (a genetic-epigenetic interaction) that alters the functioning of the HPA, an alteration that persists into adulthood. Thus, the researchers entertain the possibility that individuals with this particular genotype who experienced prolonged childhood maltreatment, and therefore prolonged elevations of cortisol, have negative cortisol awakening responses and hypocortisolism (low cortisol levels) as adults. The potential explanation proposed for why this study replicated previous findings on the interaction of genotype, childhood maltreatment, and depression but not PTSD was the cultural meaning associated with depression and PTSD in different parts of the world. In American and European populations, PTSD is less stigmatized than depression. However, in South Asia, where this study took place, PTSD is more stigmatized than depression. Thus, due to cultural differences regarding PTSD, there might have been under-reporting. The researchers also rely on the cultural context to explain why cortisol awakening responses had the most statistically significant gene-environment interaction effect. However, while cultural variation may influence self-reports of mental health, it must also be noted that measures of cortisol are not always perfect indicators of mental health. For example, approximately half of individuals with major depression have elevated cortisol levels (Sapolsky 2004). Therefore, there is not a single cortisol profile for depression, and this may be part of the explanation for why cortisol awakening responses had a more statistically significant gene-environment interaction effect than depression in this study. The researchers note some limitations as well as implications of their study. They note that the small number of individuals with the genotype that they observed such a strong gene-environment interaction with limits generalizability of their findings. They also note that individuals with this particular genotype who also experienced childhood maltreatment reported waking times approximately thirty minutes later than other participants. Therefore, they suggest further study on cortisol awakening response differences and different wake times. One implication of the study the researchers note is the importance of culturally and contextually diverse samples in order to avoid gene-environment associations being generalized based on samples of populations in high income countries of European descent. Another important implication the researchers note is the prevention of childhood maltreatment, as even in this setting of high exposure to political violence child abuse still had a significant effect on adult mental health and HPA regulation. References: Kohrt, Brandon A., Carol M. Worthman, Kerry J. Ressler, Kristina B. Mercer, Nawaraj Upadhaya, Suraj Koirala, Mahendra K. Nepal, Vidya Dev Sharma, and Elisabeth B. Binder. "Cross-cultural gene− environment interactions in depression, post-traumatic stress disorder, and the cortisol awakening response: FKBP5 polymorphisms and childhood trauma in South Asia: GxE interactions in South Asia." International Review of Psychiatry 27, no. 3 (2015): 180-196. Sapolsky, Robert M. Why zebras don't get ulcers: The acclaimed guide to stress, stress-related diseases, and coping-now revised and updated. Macmillan, 2004. by Mirjam HollemanNeuroanthropology recognizes the brain’s plasticity (rather than conceptualizing it as a hard-wired instrument) and that cultures help construct both cross-cultural and intra-cultural neural diversity. Different knowledge traditions and environments can lead to variation in brain patterning across cultures, while differential “forms of expertise, difficult social circumstances, social divisions such as those of race, gender, and socioecological conditions can all work to shape neural patterns” (p. 392) of individuals within cultures.
Neuroanthropology focuses on neurocultural processes. “Processes are operation, components, or factors that shape the overall flow, development, or outcome of a phenomenon. As opposed to a simple cause-and-effect model, processes are considered formative rather than determinative” (p. 395). Finley, in her chapter about PTSD, for example, looked at the processes of stress, horror, dislocation, and grief. She did not, however, treat these processes as isolated determiners of PTSD, but argues that these processes, steered along by cultural mediators, interact to form the “inherently integrative dimensions of neurocultural processes” (p 395) that shape the experience of PTSD. An emphasis on neurocultural processes also steers us away from essentialised views of vulnerability. For example, studies that highlight neurological differences between men and women or the increasing evidence that shows that poverty poisons the brain can essentialize gender, or poverty, as inherent vulnerabilities, “rather than focusing on neurocultural processes that explain how that happens,” “confronting entrenched patterns of socialization,“ or challenging “the inequalities that set up the poisoning in the first place” (p. 398). Thus, the notions of “neuroanthropological vulnerabilities” created by “neurocultural processes” illustrate how neuroanthropology can contribute to social analysis and applied interventions. This move away from essentialism, which is foundational to modern anthropology, is evident in other fields - such as neuroscience, psychology, linguistics, and philosophy, as well. The rest of the chapter highlights how a neuroanthropolological perspective can contribute to other fields. Psychological research has often tended to look for “universal mechanism located within the mind” (p. 402) and “has never considered either neuroplasticity or culture as foundational operating principles for the mind” (p. 403). In fact, “culture and environment were elements to be controlled and excluded in experimental designs” (p. 403). Bringing in a neuroanthropological perspective means “recognizing that psychological processes generally do not happen in laboratories to subjects, but to individuals with biographies and biases, in situations shot through with power shaped by negotiations [or interactions] and overshadowed by significance” (p.404). However, it’s not just psychologists who show tendencies toward essentialism (treating the mind as the same everywhere). Anthropological research on different cultures can fall pray to cultural essentialism – or the view that cultures are timeless, bounded, homogenous units. Where (human) nature is assumed to be universal, ‘culture,’ from a popular perspective, implies ‘whatever makes one different.’ Essentialized cultural differences have been used to justify the subordination of one cultural group to another and enforce assimilation or even genocide. (p. 406). Even when addressing questions of “difference” within cultural groups, social scientists may essentialize categories of differences, such as those between men and women or different racial or ethnic groups. Yet, “what it means to be a member of a racial or ethnic group or a man or a woman [or what it means to have a disability], is not simply an exemplar of a category, but is itself liable to shifting meaning and impact across our lives and context” (p. 405). When differences between cultures or categories are subjected to essentialists notions, “interventions” to aid a vulnerable group (or get rid of a deviant group) may do more harm than good. “But neuroanthropology can disrupt these folk models” (p.407) by highlighting neurocultural pathways and processes and the interactions between the brain, the environment, culture, and learning – in other words by presenting the encultured brain. by McCallie L. Smith III (Trip) Chapter 11 of Lende and Downy’s book, The Encultured Brain, is a case study that was conducted by Rachel S. Brezis that deals with the general topics of autism, religious practice and beliefs, and agency. However, speaking more directly to the specifics of her study, Brezis hones in on the theory of mind, which she describes as “our ability to understand others’ thoughts and intentions”(Brezis 292). She refffrences a hypothesis proposed by another scholar, Jesse Bering, as a framework if sorts to set up her research. Bering’s hypotheses suggests that individuals who have autism would not posses Theory of Mind, or is incapable of understanding not only other individual’s thoughts and intentions, and thus individuals with autism would develop a mechanical, or impersonal way of understanding the universe (Brezis 292). She also uses Bering’s hypothesis as grounds to open on of her research questions: “Given autistic persons’ difficulty in inferring with others’ thoughts, would they be capable of conceiving of the world as directed by a spiritual agent?” (Brezis 292).
Brezis approached this question by conducting ethnographic research on individuals who have autism, and focusing on the religious aspects of their life. The research she conducted was “focused on individuals with high-functioning autism and Asperger’s syndrome, who have spared language abilities and normal to above normal intelligence, along side their social and communicative difficulties” (Brezis 293). She goes and introduces several paradigms of the causes of behavioral defects of autism, and they are “impairment of theory of mind”, “weak central cohearence”, and “pervasive difficuilty in engaging in pretend play and symbolic, non-literal communications” (Brezis 293-4). Also, Brezis introduces an emerging theory of autism that connects several of the paradigms that currently exist “to a central deficit in self-understanding” (Brezis 294). The theory of mind aspect perpetuates a fair amount throughout the rest of the chapter. This is probably because it is the paradigm that Bering (2002) uses to make predictions that individuals having autism “would not search for an intentional agent to give meaning to events in the world”, Brezis’s application and main focus on theory of mind in her research helps to refute the previous notions provided by Bering (2002). The notion of theory of mind, and the other paradigms presented by Bering (2002) would present a great deal of difficulties to an individual who has autism, and one of those difficulties might be religion and religious development. As Brezis points out a main aspect of religious development theory is the idea of the individuals personal “relationship with the divine is modeled after social relation ships”, and as previously mentioned, this process could be disrupted in an individual who has autism. Due to these notions Bering (2002) makes predictions that individuals with autism my have ritualistic behavior, but would lack the “existential search for meaning, or the religious belief in God” (Brezis 296). Brezis extends past the predictions of Bering, and conducts ethnographic first person accounts of religious belief in individuals in autism. The religious background she chooses to us for her research was Judaism. She decided on Judaism because “of its special emphasis on the behavioral performance of 613 biblical commandments and their deviations, alongside its lack of a specific credo” (Brezis 296). She had a total of sixteen participants in the study four of which were female, and the rest male all participants were between the ages of 9 to 26. “Participants were recruited through local support groups for parents of autistic children in and around Jerusalem”, and their degree of religious practice varied from “ultra-orthodox to secular” (Brezis 297). She conducted all the interviews in Hebrew, and three participants interviews, out of the original sixteen, had to be excluded form the study. The interviews she conducted were between one hour to one hour and half hours. She opened with questions regarding the degree of religious practice, such as keeping kosher, Shabbat, and holidays they and their parents keep, and then she slowly worked into more “personal questions of belief and the nature of their personal relationship with God” (Brezis 298). The results of her research were full of diversity and rich with information that is worthy of further inquiry. There are several excerpts that Brezis includes in the chapter from her interviews that point to a use of religious and cultural scripts and “scaffolding of personal identity, but also refute Bering’s (2002) predictions that “autistic persons would fail to develop agentive views of God” (Brezis 306). Brezis was in fact able to show, through her interviews, “that autistic persons can hold an agentive view of God as directing events in the World, and a minority can even engage in an amore personal exchange with God” (Brezis 306). This chapter is a striking one in the essence that there is a wealth of potential for future research that can be conducted and the copious amounts beneficial aspects that said research could produce, and this chapter was just scratch on the surface. There should be, and hopefully already is more and current research being conducted surrounding the ideas proposed in this chapter. There is not much from this study that can be ultimately conclusive other than what was mentioned in the previous paragraph. However, the study is able to add new narrative to the continuing debate surrounding the role theory of mind has on the neuropsychological foundations of religious belief. Also, adding new narrative to autism studies in anthropology. An ethnographic anthropological approach has the ability to capture, or attempts to capture, the natural occurrence of things as the happen in nature, and in this case how individuals with autism navigate their various strengths and weaknesses as they occur naturally instead laboratory setting that’s can be isolating and commonly focuses on just one or two aspect here and there. Works Cited Lende, Daniel H., and Greg Downey. "Chapter 11 Autism as a Case for Neuroanthropology: Delineating the Role of Theory of Mind in Religious Development." The Encultured Brain: An Introduction to Neuroanthropology. Cambridge, MA: MIT, 2012. 292-314. Print. by Edward QuinnPeople with autism spectrum disorder (ASD) have difficulty with face-to-face social interactions, and this can have negative consequences for overall well-being. Social networking sites (SNS) offer a platform for interaction that is more comfortable for people with ASD, and has the potential to enhance both online and offline relationships. Mazurek (2013) investigates patterns of social media use among people with ASD and tests for relationships with friendships (quality and quantity) and loneliness.
In a sample of 108 adults diagnosed with ASD, Mazurek (2013) finds that about 80% of the participants use SNS, mostly for purposes of social connection (rather than business, entertainment, etc). Mazurek (2013) finds that those who use SNS are more likely to have close friends, and that ASD adults who use SNS specifically for social connection have closer friendships. Interestingly, the use of SNS was not related to feelings of loneliness. Instead, the quality and quantity of offline friendships was associated with loneliness. Greater numbers and quality of offline friendships were negatively associated with loneliness. Surprisingly, SNS use was not related to offline friendship. This finding runs counter to the notion that SNS have a positive effect on social engagement (in real life). A number of limitations are discussed by the author, including online recruitment, which may have biased the sample towards greater numbers of SNS users. The data are cross-sectional, and causality cannot be determined. Also, the gender of the sample was evenly split, which is not an accurate reflection of the ASD population. There are roughly four men with ASD for every woman with ASD. Despite the limitations, there is a lot of value in this study. This is a first look at social media use in adults with ASD. From a basic science point of view, it is illuminating to understand the use of SNS and their effects in typically developing people and in people with ASD. Though Mazurek (2013) did not use a control group, she does compare her findings to literature on social media in the broader population, and it appears that the patterns of social media use in the broader population hold in this sample of people with ASD. Another reason this study is important is that it has potential clinical relevance. Given the high levels of engagement with computers by people with ASD, it may be a tempting platform for intervention. This study suggests that any positive effects of SNS on the social lives of people with ASD will work through effects on offline social networks. ASD interventions would benefit greatly from the type of ethnographic work that Brezis (2012) presents in her chapter. If we subscribe to the idea that a lack of self-understanding is central to ASD, it means that any intervention should be evaluated in terms of its ability to improve self-understanding and self-expression. Social media sites seem like perfect mediums to facilitate such activities, and may be an important testing ground for Brezis' (2012) suggestion that people with ASD might benefit from scaffolding (or outright appropriation of narratives) in self-expression. Social media provides a myriad of tools for self-expression, and it would be interesting to see if these help people with ASD to build an understanding of themselves that enables better social interaction and communication. References Mazurek, M. O. (2013). Social media use among adults with autism spectrum disorders. Computers in Human Behavior, 29, 1709-1714. Brezis, R. (2012). Autism as a Case for Neuroanthropology: Delineating the Role of Theory of Mind in Religious Development. In Lende, D. H & Downey, G. Eds. The Encultured Brain: An Introduction to Neuroanthropology. (pp. 291-314). Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT Press. by Paige RidleyDaniel Lende focuses chapter thirteen on addiction and how it relates to neuroanthropology. An addiction is defined as having cravings, desires and urges but addiction can also lead to very extreme measures causing problematic situations for both the individual as well as members of their immediate friend and family circles. Lende hones in on the very core of addiction; compulsive desires and the repetitive use of drug habits.
Lende’s purpose of this chapter is to begin to understand how addiction effects an individual’s neurological process within their own cultural niche. Compulsive involvement not only leads to destructiveness but it also is directly “defined by the neurocultural dynamics of desire and habit” (Pg. 340).Lende takes an ethnographical approach as he noted that addiction is sought out to be a problem that is associated with involvement. Addiction is often thought about as feeding one’s pleasure but as Lende continues his research on addictions he finds this not to be as accurate. Addiction cannot be summed up in a simple definition as it is very complex in its own right. Addiction does not only affect a certain area of the brain but travels through the brain’s neural circuit disrupting motions, memories and choices of individuals which in turn creates a social complexity. Addiction changes the way that individuals perceive themselves and how their actions mirror their thoughts. Addiction runs a certain path starting with the “basal parts of the brain” that regulate body activation, continues “through the limbic circuits” that control emotions and process information that is within our cultural environments finally reaching its destination at the “frontal cortices that perform higher-order cognition and control” (Pg.342). Substance abuse interferes with many aspects in life including abandonment of family and social obligations such as jobs that were in fact very prominent before substance abuse began to take a toll. Families are constantly being ripped apart all because of an addiction. Substance abuse alters ones capability to make informed decisions that allow individuals to control their behavior. Incentive Salience is defined by Robinson and Berridge as being distinguishable, it encompasses declarative goals and has explicit expectations of future outcomes which in turn are controlled by the cortical circuits of the brain. Incentive salience is used to describe an urge for something that is later turned into a sudden realization that they need to fulfill their desires at that very instance. Incentive salience is not the sole component of addiction but it does in fact play a big role. It is important to note that salience drives addictions that turn into repetitive addiction behaviors. Salience cues a form of motivation and is rewarded when the action is complete as the body is content for a moment in time. Lende’s study takes place in Colombia where he works with adolescents and tries to understand their motives behind their addiction. Many adolescents feel that their family is against their every move so they turn to drugs as an outlet. This outlet allows them to associate with others who feel the very same way and it creates a bond of acceptance. When the individual feels they are accepted they long to feel that way again and are very anxious for the next appointed time. Once addicted that is all they can think about. Their motives get them through the day with the idea that they will reward themselves with a chosen substance. Addictions allow individuals to feel in control of their environments even when they are not. Salience causes one to seek out a place where one feels important for who they are. Addictions are habits that become routine. Habits like addictions are caused by internal motivations. They are goal oriented with a short term future. Addiction behaviors are linked to the ventral and dorsal striatum. Once the researchers began to understand the linkage between the ventral and dorsal striatum it highlighted the actions that the brain performs again and again. One must place themselves in the thought processes of an addict to fully understand the motives and drives behind doing so. Part of the ethnographic research ties back in the idea of having brains in the wild as conducting such an experiment in the laboratory would change the outcome of the data. The drug addicts need to be in their own environments for proper documentation. The results of this study portray that “social interaction among young users were actually one of the main motivators and rewards for people with deep involvement in that setting” (Pg. 355). I find this article very interesting but very relatable simultaneously. Involvement is a key factor when trying to find one’s place within a given group. A key factor of involvement is being with like-minded individuals who have the same aspirations in life. Coming from a high school with several drug addicts this particular article stood out and made me question whether or not I made these individuals feel as if they were valued. Should I have included them more? In one of the other readings last week about PTSD it talked about preventing it before it ever happened. Is there a way to reach out to young kids letting them know they are not alone and that there are other alternatives besides drugs which they can turn to? by April IrwinIn an effort to enhance our understanding of what the interdisciplinarity of neuroanthropology looks like in practice, I present this article by Khalighinejad and Haggard (2015) about transcranial direct-current stimulation (tDCS) and how it may assist or impeded how the brain handles sense of agency. For a quick primer about tDCS please visit this page by The John Hopkins University. Although it is not a neuroimaging method, tDCS is common for understanding the role a neural network may play in various neurological processes. In this case, the authors seek to further the research that pertains to the neural correlates of sense of agency, which has shown activation in the angular gyrus (AG) and the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex (DLPFC) during agency tasks. The authors target intentional binding as a way to measure a person’s sense of agency and they use this concept in several experiments. They describe intentional binding as, “the perceived time of voluntary actions and their sensory consequences [that] are attracted towards each other” (Khalighinejad & Haggard, 2015, p. 94). This binding of intentions differs from direct agency tasks which typically measures feelings of agency by asking participants to judge if their actions caused a specific sensory event. However, the authors advocate for intentional binding as the measurement because it is not seen in involuntary movements.
Each of the three experiments involved an image of a clock with a hand that begins rotating when the participant presses the enter key. They are asked to watch the center of the clock and then press a certain button with one of their index fingers (the finger that they used depends on the experiment). When they pressed the button, the clock hand stopped and they had to make a time judgement, which changed according to each condition and experiment. In some conditions, an audio tone placed before the clock hand was stopped, but in other conditions, the tone was played when a button was pressed. Before the clock-task, each participant had a 25-minute session with tDCS and the setup of the anodal (increases neuron excitability) and cathodal (decreases neuron excitability) electrodes changed according to the aim of the experiment. The experimental design for this paper was extremely detailed, which is really wonderful if you’re attempting to replicate it. However, I want to explain that the electrodes were set-up according to fMRI studies with sense of agency with the goal of understanding how sense of agency may be distributed across the frontal (where the DLPFC is) and parietal (the location of the AG) lobes as well as how sense of agency is distributed across the hemispheres. Placing the electrodes at these places allows us to determine whether the AG or DLPFC have a large role in sense of agency. I have presented the experimental conditions under which people were asked to demonstrate sense of agency, which may have positive implications on how we talk about it in neuroanthropology because knowing how things are being measured in labs may allow us to elaborate on those procedures and compare those to events in people’s real lives where they exhibit sense of agency. Now I will present the major findings from these experiments because that’s where the discussion usually begins. Also, what I’m appreciating about the authors that we’ve read thus far is their ability to take these findings and apply them to the concepts that they are studying. Compared to the sham conditions where there was actually no stimulation, anodal stimulation of the left AG significantly reduced the likelihood that the audio tone was bound to keypress. This aligns with other studies that suggests that, “the AG processes mismatches in action outcomes” (Khalighinejad & Haggard, 2015, p. 100). The cathodal results from all three experiments supported that this type of stimulation tends to have weak effects on cognitive tasks. Their main conclusion is that this study provides a half-step forward and that more research will have to be done in order to make any definite conclusions. My big takeaway from this article is that both this experimental data and the theoretical discussions are needed in order to really move things forward. Reference: Khalighinejad, N., & Haggard, P. (2015). Modulating human sense of agency with non-invasive brain stimulation. Cortex, 69, 93–103. http://doi.org/10.1016/j.cortex.2015.04.015 |
AuthorThis blog is group authored by Dr. DeCaro and the students in his ANT 474/574: Neuroanthropology. Archives
April 2019
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