In a collaboration between MIT and a local theater company, scientists and thespians come together to ask, when does meat become mind?
Constanza Villalba
On Ego, the latest in a series of theatrical productions put on by MIT and the Arlington, MA-based Underground Railway Theater company, tackles an issue most neuroscientists won’t touch: the neural basis of the self. About 140 people attended a staged reading of the play at MIT earlier this week. Robert Desimone, director of the McGovern Institute for Brain Research, led a post-performance discussion with the audience. He praised the production, saying that he had expected the piece to be thought provoking but hadn’t expected it to be so moving.
The lead character, a neuroscientist named Alex, professes to be a “bundle theorist.” He believes that his self—his identity—is defined by nothing more than a bundle of neurons. That’s why he has no trouble using a Star Trek-inspired transporter to vaporize his body and recreate it in any new destination of his choice.
Those who believe in the “ghost in the machine” would be too squeamish to allow themselves to be disassembled and reassembled so perfunctorily, Alex says. But when the transporter accidentally leaves behind his original self, creating an extra copy, he can’t bring himself to kill off his doppelganger. At least, not right away.
This science fiction scenario lends dramatic tension to the debate about whether people are simply the product of their neuronal firings or something more sentimental, more ethereal. The play never answers the question. That is left to the audience. What could be a dry, academic debate turns into a moving story through the experience of a neuroscientist struggling with his view of the self.
On Ego is based on the 2003 book called Into the Silent Land: Travels in Neuropsychology by Paul Broks, a psychologist at Plymouth University in the United Kingdom. In his book, Broks explores interesting case studies from his clinical work and uses them to muse on the biology of the mind. The play, which Broks co-wrote with the established British playwright Mick Gordon, offers just one case study. But Brok’s musings come through in Alex’s dialogue.
Ultimately the play is more philosophical than scientific. It doesn’t bombard the audience with scientific facts or case reports. Instead, it charms the audience into liking Alex—both of him. Once attached to Alex, viewers can’t readily subscribe to the bundle theory, because that would contradict any sadness they feel about the prospect of Alex getting rid of one of his selves.
Even though the play doesn’t teach any neuroanatomy or electrophysiology, it gets the audience thinking about what it is that defines the mind. And along the way, viewers pick up some fascinating tidbits about neurology.
They learn, for example, about the methods neurologists use to test their subjects’ intellectual prowess. Most important, they learn that while the brain, like the surface of the earth, has been thoroughly mapped, there are still many things about it that remain a mystery.
See related NNB article: The marriage of science and theater