Negotiating neuroscience: LeDoux’s “dramatic ensemble”

Why LeDoux?

In a burgeoning discipline such as neuroscience, which includes many respected academic “personalities,” we need to justify our choice of focusing on a particular work by a particular neuroscientist. In terms of research focus, Joseph LeDoux indicates on the Emotional Brain Institute website that his group’s research is “aimed at understanding the biological mechanisms of emotional memory” with a particular interest in “how the brain learns and stores information about danger” (Emotional Brain Institute, n.d.). Central to this is the mapping of neural pathways (circuits), specifically those involving the amygdala, the central neural structure in LeDoux’s research and his theoretical work.

LeDoux became known beyond the confines of this area with the 1996 publication of The Emotional Brain: The Mysterious Underpinnings of Emotional Life. Along with Damasio’s Descartes’ Error (1994) and Panksepp’s Affective Neuroscience (1998), this book contributed to the sedimentation of the so-called “turn to affect” in cognitive neuroscience. Papoulias and Callard (2010) identify LeDoux as one of the neuroscientists most often cited by cultural theorists. In philosophy, it is The Emotional Brain, which is referred to in Bennett and Hacker’s (2003) critical analysis of logic in the neurosciences, the Philosophical Foundations of Neuroscience, where LeDoux’s work is considered alongside that of Damasio, Edelman, Gazzaniga, and other prominent neuroscientists. ¹ This text has also been referred to by those in the social sciences, specifically those concerned with embodiment, such as Cromby (2007) and Wilson (2004). Wilson (2004) in particular engages with LeDoux’s ideas as expressed in The Emotional Brain in terms of the promise they hold for “feminists to work much more productively with neurological and evolutionary data” (p. 94).

Less overtly celebrated than its predecessor, Synaptic Self is broader in scope. LeDoux (2002) states that with Synaptic Self his aim was to write a text that is “clear to lay readers and at the same time not insulting to other scientists” (p. ix). He claims success in writing an in-between text, one addressed at both the academy and brain society, although his discourse is notable for its detail and terminology both in terms of neurochemical processes and historical detail. In a way LeDoux’s text reads like a history book, although it is then a celebratory historiography which provides an account of his discipline’s progress towards truth, that is, it is an optimistic progress report (Richards, 2002). In similar celebratory terms, LeDoux and the book are acknowledged as significant by Damasio, Goleman, and Schacter on the inner sleeve. Thus, despite now being more than a decade old, this text represents a significant moment by a salient researcher where an attempt is made to integrate the disciplines of psychology and neuroscience in conceptualising the subject. The focus here, as with the majority of the aforementioned analyses, is on a single text by LeDoux. This is because, as indicated, this is an attempt by LeDoux to integrate his research and provide an account of the self and, methodologically, that reading closely relies on tracing the claims and contradictions inherent within the confines of this particular attempt to provide a coherent account.

LeDoux’s synaptic self

In Synaptic Self, LeDoux (2002) summarises his position on the self through the delineation of seven principles which are briefly discussed here so as to allow a deeper appreciation of the argument in the latter part of this article. The first principle describes the intimate relationship between the brain and the extra-neural: the brain, consisting of a multiplicity of functionally and physically distinct neural structures, by being embedded in the same environment and acting synchronously and in parallel, learns and stores “different aspects of a single experience” (p. 308). ² As a result of being implanted in this common and enduring environment, “a shared culture [emphasis added] develops and persists among the systems, even if they never communicate directly” (p. 310).

Synaptic plasticity (malleability) and the co-ordination and integration of activity across the multiplicity of neural cells, circuits, and systems are core concerns for LeDoux. He accentuates Hebbian plasticity (where, according to Hebb’s rule, concurrent activity in pre- and postsynaptic cells results in the strengthening of the connection between such cells) where simultaneously active cells are subsequently bound together in the event of the same or a comparable stimulus. LeDoux also emphasises the monoamines; chemicals produced in a variety of brainstem groups that mediate the effects of the primary neurotransmitters. One effect of these molecules is to facilitate synaptic plasticity, “allowing the whole experience to be stored at once, albeit across multiple systems” (2002, p. 315).

More spatially specific than the aforementioned general processes, LeDoux (2002) identifies convergence zones in the brain (e.g., the prefrontal cortices) where information from the various systems are integrated. Activity in zones feeding into convergence zones facilitates plasticity (and thus the integration of information) in the latter. Convergence zones provide a “kind of unity of experience” (integration) in contrast to the “bits and pieces” of other “lower connection” regions (p. 318). They are thus core to the establishment (“self-assembly”) of “the coherent personality of the human being” (p. 315).

Significantly, the relationship between the convergent and other zones is reciprocal in that the former have an efferent action on the sites providing afferent connections. Consequently, the “more or less” automatic bottom-up assembling processes described above are distinguished from top-down processes which can direct, enhance, and suppress activity via “downward causation” (LeDoux, 2002, p. 319). Referring expressly to working memory, which LeDoux equates to consciousness, thought is understood as a “pattern of synaptic transmission within a network of brain cells” (p. 319). For us, this formulation stresses a material-functional intimacy; thought emerges from neural activity and there is thus no radical distinction between mind and materiality. In a way, consciousness is the experience, or the “being inside” of material process. Thought is capable of enhancing the plasticity of other networks and, since it is related to consciousness, this indicates the agency of the organism: “the way we think about ourselves can have powerful influences on the way we are, and who we become” (LeDoux, 2002, p. 320).

Core to LeDoux’s (2002) conceptualisation in Synaptic Self are emotion systems: “Emotional states monopolise brain resources” (p. 320) and therefore play a key role in the organisation of brain activity. The routes of this influence are diverse: these systems can activate brainstem modulatory systems and, in particular, the amygdala can influence cognition, specifically perception (the cortical sensory areas), thought (associated with the prefrontal cortices), and the formation of explicit memories (associated with the hippocampus and surroundings areas). In addition, there are more indirect routes, such as the feeling of bodily sensations and the impact of hormones on neural activity. The activation of emotional systems implies generally greater arousal which increases the possibility of coordinated learning across systems. Thus integration features here: “By coordinating parallel plasticity throughout the brain, emotional states promote the development and unification of the self” (p. 322).

Finally, LeDoux also draws a distinction between implicit (unconscious) and explicit (conscious) systems. For LeDoux (2002), the “self” should not be equated with consciousness but rather refers to the “totality of the living organism,” which “subsumes the idea of personality” (p. 26) which is aligned with consciousness. This totality would therefore include both implicit and explicit aspects. This distinction then allows for the existence of schisms: “Sometimes the things learned explicitly are not the things that were focused on by the implicit systems” (p. 322). Implicit and explicit systems are not necessarily aligned and can therefore potentially stand in a relation of contradiction to each other. Furthermore, for LeDoux, the dominance or influence of any system is always partial, temporary, and incomplete. Significantly, for the argument provided in this article, the nature of these relationships between various systems creates a tension with LeDoux’s concern with integration and coherence.

LeDoux is especially concerned with temporal consistency and spatial integration because, for him, these lie at the heart of the “self.” He asks: “How does a person with a coherent personality—a fairly stable set of thoughts, emotions, and motivations—ever emerge?” (2002, p. 304). “What makes them work together, rather than as an unruly mob?” (p. 304). The notion of a coherent personality that is a central concern for LeDoux has been critiqued, in part due to it being a concept that finds its ascendancy and dominance within a Western cultural history (Burr, 1995; Cromby, 2007). Here, however, we would like to sustain our close reading and stay within the logic of LeDoux’s answer.

For LeDoux (2002) the solution lies in two constants; the stability of the external environment and the universality of synaptic processes. With the former, as noted earlier, internal identity emerges due to exposure to external consistency; an internal “culture” develops and is shared by various systems due to these being exposed to the same external circumstances. With the latter, synaptic processes are seen to establish a universal form of communication, meaning that human brains all operate in the same rudimentary way. These synapses, varying in “strength” based on their histories of activity, establish “communities of cells that work together to achieve a particular goal” (p. 40). The intimacy between this synaptic network and the self cannot be overemphasised, for “when connections change, personality too, can change” (p. 307). This, however, means that the coherence of this structure is based on the delicacy and fickleness of the synaptic connection:

That the self is so fragile an entity is disconcerting. At the same time, if the self can be disassembled by experiences that alter connections, presumably it also can be reassembled by experiences that establish, change or renew connections. (LeDoux, 2002, p. 307)

We can note here then that the vulnerability and plasticity of the synaptic connection are (literally) cast together; disassembly and reassembly can be read as entwined processes, as two sides of the same coin; each resulting in the alteration of what emerges, each involved in the process of destruction/construction.

Following from the above, LeDoux’s (2002) self is a “totality of what an organism is physically, biologically, psychologically, socially, and culturally,” and he indicates that “[t]hough it is a unit, it is not unitary” (p. 31). However, he explains the latter reductively at the level of the brain; “different components of the self reflect the operation of different brain systems, which can be but are not always in sync” (p. 31). Consequently, quoting the painter Paul Klee, LeDoux refers to the self as a “dramatic ensemble” and, later, as a “complex constellation” (p. 31).

Klee’s phrase can be found in entry 638 of the 1964 translation of his diaries (Klee & Klee, 1964), where he asserts that the individual is a living being; an organism comprised of elementary things that are both distinct and inseparable. This indivisibility is fundamental since, for Klee, separation not only destroys the unity or organism but the identity of the very components themselves, that is, identity is not intrinsic to an element or organism but emerges from the relationships between the components, a notion that is also echoed in Marx’s philosophy of internal relations (Ollman, 2003) and Derrida’s (1982) notion of différance. In the entry, Klee describes a verbal and gestural dialogue between various characters, both familial and other. Klee’s attempted illustration of his previous claim, however, falls short since it resorts to distinct memories and thus does not capture the mutual dependence of these “voices” upon each other. Furthermore, despite a “sharpened pencil,” the author seems stunned into inactivity and the “I” of the author is positioned as somehow outside of this loose congregation, looking on and trying to find expression through this multitude. LeDoux does not resort to the metaphor of voices but he does, through using Klee’s “dramatic ensemble,” attempt to express the tension between the multiple and the singular and (through reciprocity) the mutual constitution of both. However, despite his emphasis on this reciprocity, his primary concern (as we shall see) is with the emergence of the unity from the multiple.

For LeDoux (2002), rather than the brain remaining a “collection of isolated mental functions” (p. 32), it is through this “dramatic ensemble,” this interacting and mutually dependent multiplicity of systems, that mental integration and coherence is produced. As noted above, what makes such cooperation and interaction possible, are synaptic processes (the interactions in inter-neuron connections). So for LeDoux (2002) a tension is set up between this multiplicity and the achievement of a coherence (or singularity) of alarming vulnerability; his question then being “how the diversity is coped with in the process of keepings one’s self together” (p. 357). In the next section we discuss LeDoux’s distinction between the conscious and unconscious; a division that undermines any simplistic claim to a static or rational subject.

The play of dominations across a divided brain

Early on in Synaptic Self, LeDoux (2002) considers several conceptualisations of the person and self and concludes that what is left out in all of these are the unconscious facets. He points out how Descartes equated the mental to consciousness resulting in an impoverished notion of mind which has since infiltrated both psychology and neuroscience. Instead, LeDoux argues, the self is a living totality which includes the personality, which is equated to consciousness. Not only does this definition of the self then include unconscious processes but LeDoux (2002) also grants this multiplicity primacy: “consciousness depends on unconscious cognitive processes” (p. 23).

Unconscious operation of the brain is … the rule rather than the exception throughout the evolutionary history of the animal kingdom. It’s a linguistic quirk, or a revealing cultural assumption, that the older (unconscious) processes are defined as negations of the newer one (consciousness). Language isn’t perfect. (LeDoux, 2002, p. 11)

Thus the unconscious cannot simply be considered the other (the negation) of consciousness. Instead consciousness can be thought of as a “product of underlying cognitive processes” (LeDoux, 2002, p. 191), where consciousness is equated with the contents of working memory, associated with the cortex (specifically, the prefrontal lobes). Experience is then comprised of the products of the processing zones that are linked to the prefrontal cortex.

LeDoux thus aligns with a tradition, which includes Nietzsche and Freud, which decentres consciousness and locates the unconscious as the grounds for its emergence, although LeDoux (2002) explicitly distances himself from Freud’s “theoretical baggage” (p. 28). Ignoring here Young’s (2012) propensity for language laden with mereological fallacy, he argues that neuroscience’s renewed interest in the unconscious differs from earlier versions by being based methodologically on functional neuro-imaging which is located in the new conceptual object of the social brain; that is, an object based in evolutionary theory, that enables the detection of others’ intentions and feelings, and which makes decisions without us being conscious of these.

For LeDoux, the self is a unit which is not static but typified by constant change, and is the product of both genetic and learning processes. At its core lies the conscious/unconscious binary, referred to as the explicit and implicit:

The implicit aspects of the self … are all the aspects of who we are that are not immediately available to consciousness, either because they are by nature inaccessible, or because they are accessible but not being accessed at the moment. (2002, pp. 27–28)

Although the latter phrase bears a resemblance to Freud’s notion of the preconscious, LeDoux distances himself from Freud’s notion of the unconscious as the domain of the repressed. Instead the physicality of the brain is divided into “systems that are able to store specific kinds of information implicitly” and systems that constitute the “explicit aspects of the self” (2002, p. 28). It is through these two types of systems that the self is maintained.

For LeDoux, the subcortical constitutes the “low road,” the path that does not include the neocortex (the “high road”) and therefore consciousness. The “low road” is differentiated from the “high road” in that the former is quicker, allowing it to initiate a reaction based on a crude analysis of a stimulus, whilst the latter, acting more slowly and consciously, can provide a more detailed analysis of a situation confirming or altering the initial interpretation made implicitly.

As mentioned earlier, LeDoux (2002) indicates that there is a schism that further divides the various systems of the brain, which he characterises as a play of dominances which are always partial and temporary:

Through explicit systems, we try to wilfully dictate who we are, and how we will behave. But we are only partially effective [emphasis added] in doing so, since we have imperfect [emphasis added] conscious access to emotional systems. In spite of their importance, though, emotion systems are not always active and have only episodic influence [emphasis added] on what other brain systems learn and store. Furthermore, because there are multiple independent emotion systems, the episodic influence of any one system is itself but a component of the total impact of emotions on self-development. (p. 323)

We would here like to pick up on two points in the above quote; the first is the emphasis on emotion and the other is the description of conscious access as “imperfect.” LeDoux’s elucidation of the first carefully establishes the episodic dominance of the implicit, while his use of “imperfect,” we will argue, attempts a simplistic inversion of such a dynamic reading of the brain. The next section will detail the first point, which will be followed in the next section by a discussion of the second point, which presents the core of our argument.

The “en route” brain

LeDoux repeatedly illustrates the dominance of the subcortical, specifically the emotional systems, in learning processes. Bearing in mind the aforementioned point that binary distinctions are simplistic readings of spatially and temporally complex neural processes, these examples generally indicate the domination of emotion over cognition, the subcortical over the cortical, and of unconscious processes over consciousness. For the purpose of our argument we would like to focus on another particular instance where this clear depiction of a split body-subject comes undone:

Our brain has not evolved to the point [emphasis added] where the new systems that make complex thinking possible can easily control [emphasis added] the old systems that give rise to our base needs and motives, and emotional reactions. It does not mean that we are simply victims of our brains and should give in to our urges. It means that downward causation is sometimes hard work. Doing the right thing doesn’t always flow naturally from knowing what the right thing to do is. (LeDoux, 2002, p. 323)

As will become clear, we read the above passage as an indication of LeDoux’s dis-ease with his research’s decentring of conscious agency and a subsequent attempt to reassert the conscious subject marginalised across the majority of his text. The limits of agency repeatedly described in LeDoux’s text, where “knowing” does not “translate” into “doing,” are indicated here as being due to, what we call, the ontological reality of an en route brain, one where the “new” has yet to “evolve” to the point where it can more comprehensively dominate the “old.” We would argue that this indicates that, despite all the evidence he provides, the ideal for LeDoux is still that of the rational subject where the subject claims complete consciousness and agency; transparency to and control by reason over the “base” and “emotional.” Importantly, this is not coached in terms of a moral project where, despite this being an ideal, we still endeavour to always be mindful of what motivates our actions, but rather a biological process where evolutionary process will eventually give rise to full agency. In the meanwhile for LeDoux we need to undertake the moral project and work hard so as to reach down and surmount potential victimhood. This is an odd claim within the logic of the text since the evolutionary and individual utility (in terms of survival and general functioning) of implicit systems which undermine, repeatedly dominate, and influence conscious agency is well demonstrated through the various examples he details. For us, this indicates the struggle of utilising binary logic to account for the complexity at hand. To further understand this tension between the “current” unsettling influence of the unconscious and the “yet to come” of conscious enlightenment and mastery, we will now consider the closely associated nostalgia for “coherency” that LeDoux expresses.

To reiterate; LeDoux describes, what we call, an en route brain, where the new in evolutionary time (the cortical, the cognitive, consciousness) must still “evolve” further so as to more “easily control” the evolutionary “old” (“base needs,” the subcortical, emotions, the implicit). He notes how we are currently only “partially effective,” as “explicit systems,” at “wilfully dictat[ing] who we are, and how we will behave.” The reason for this is that “we have imperfect conscious access to emotional systems”, (2002, p. 323). It is interesting to note how the self (“we”) is equated to the explicit, to consciousness, an equation which is strongly criticised by LeDoux, rather than the “totality” of his expansive definition of the self. For us, this contradiction along with LeDoux’s reference to evolution and imperfection indicates nostalgia for a rather traditional ideality; that of a cognitive consciousness, a rational self, that has full access to emotional systems and that of an agency that has full command of behaviour. It is an image of full presence (immediacy) and mastery (control) of the self. This indicates that LeDoux is still operating well within the fundamental binary of Western metaphysics; that of presence and absence (Johnson, 1981). Presence, both spatially and temporally, may be aligned with a number of terms including being, form, entity, essence, identity, immediacy, life, and, important in this context, unity, while absence may be associated with terms such as the accidental, the indefinite, death, deferral, difference, dissimulation, distance, and formlessness. The Western philosophical tradition desires presence, which then, since it is a desire, indicates that what is encountered (empirically and conceptually) is the lack of such presence (Johnson, 1981). This encounter results in practices that seek the “reduction and domestication of otherness” (that is, the mastery of that which lies outside of consciousness and agency) by reducing plurality to unity and alterity to sameness (Critchley & Mooney, 1994, p. 448). As Nietzsche pointed out, Western philosophy is the “active indifference to difference” (Derrida, 1982, p. 17).

Within the confines of this tradition, it is ironic that, in the absence of this “yet to evolve” ideal, it is the multiplicity of the subterranean world of emotions, characterised by limited periods of activity and influence that bring LeDoux some consolation. Complete subjugation to emotion is avoided by the multiplicity and autonomy of these emotion systems and how they are not consistently active and thus only have temporary influence on other brain systems. It is this partial and temporary dominance of the emotions, this emotional in-fighting, which consoles LeDoux as he waits for evolutionary time to deliver us the omnipotent explicit; the (singular) consciousness associated with frontal lobe function. We argue that it contradicts LeDoux’s carefully articulated and grounded image of the self, divided and enabled across the un/conscious, for there to be such a concern with the expansion of consciousness, the colonisation of the implicit by the explicit. As indicated above, this is an agenda functioning within the constraints of Western enlightenment individualism; it is also an ideality that shows its strained status as its realisation is cast indefinitely into the future by LeDoux as he grasps for a teleological reading of evolution. Instead, we argue, it seems more “coherent” with LeDoux’s expansive notion of self to acknowledge both the brain’s fundamental openness to change due to its synaptic architecture, as well as its intimate embeddedness in and structuring by the extra-neural, and thus to take seriously the profoundness of the effect of the sociocultural and environmental on this self and its well-being.

LeDoux’s desire for a traditional form of coherency involves an inversion of a more dynamic form of coherence sketched across Synaptic Self (2002); a complete subordination of the unconscious (the multiplicity of implicit systems and circuits) to consciousness (the explicit working memory of the prefrontal lobes). This differs from the dynamic coherency sketched across the text; a coherency characterised as vulnerable, constantly made anew, prone to imbalance, and marked by the play of partial and passing (implicit and explicit) dominances. The prominence of the play of dominances when describing the relationship between these “elements” is repeatedly noted: for example, working memory is “indirectly influenced” by the amygdala, emotion can “monopolise” consciousness, the amygdala may “dominate” working memory (p. 226), the accumbens is “regulated” by the hippocampus and amygdala (p. 271), a brain on antidepressants is “encouraged, even forced” to learn, the brain may be “duped” (p. 281) into being plastic, the septum “regulates” some hippocampal activity (p. 286), the amygdala may “bias” thoughts, decisions, and actions (p. 289), genes “contribute to, rather than solely dictate” (p. 296) synaptic connectivity, working memory “regulate[s] what we attend to” (p. 316), and independent learning systems can be “coerced” into learning simultaneously (p. 312). Throughout the text LeDoux describes a play of dominances and subordinations, enablements and prohibitions, excitations and inhibitions; the articulation of a “dramatic ensemble,” where all such relationships are dependent on the vulnerable and plastic physicality of connection. No structure is completely master or servant, and none are perfectly circumscribed and isolated; none a self-determining identity. In this complexity of mutual control, we have both the decentring of leadership (agency) and the emergence of identity (coherence) through the play of difference (ever varying dominances and subordinations).

For us, LeDoux’s longing for coherence through omniscient consciousness is particularly odd in a context where consciousness is regarded as emerging due to unconscious process. It evokes the image of a snake attempting to swallow itself. Here it is useful to draw on Wilson’s (2004) distinction between two types of relationship: in the first type, the relationship between elements (be they neurons, circuits, systems, or systems of systems) is read as “an assemblage of self-contained elements arranged in determinable relations of cause and effect” (p. 19), that is, “a complex, yet fundamentally straight relation” (Wilson, 2004, p. 16). In complexity theory this would be regarded as typical of a complicated, rather than a complex system; that is, it describes a system which is ultimately circumscribable (Cilliers, 1998). Being able to render everything transparent, as sets of factual statements, is exactly what LeDoux hopes for with the “en route” brain. The consistent domination of conscious processes by the consciousness subject is the same fantasy as that of (neuro)science where that which is unknown (in darkness) may be rendered known (flooded in light). This is LeDoux’s nostalgia, his adherence to a traditional metaphysics; a relationship at odds with the alternative he describes and which Klee describes in his notion of the “dramatic self.”

With regard to the second relationship, Wilson (2004) describes “a psychosomatic economy within which the identity of each element … is constituted as an effect of that economic structuration” (p. 19), that is, “their relationality [is] somehow integral to their very identity” (p. 16). Wilson (1998, 2004) draws from post-structuralism here, specifically Derrida’s notion of différance. However, as noted earlier, this notion of relationship can be found elsewhere. Aside from resonating with Klee’s notion of the self as a “dramatic ensemble,” it also bears a striking resemblance to Marx’s philosophy of internal relations, which attempts not to simply replace the thing with the relation but, more extensively, that “the conditions of [the thing’s] existence are taken to be part of what it is” (Ollman, 2003, p. 37). Furthermore, it can also be recognised, bringing us here closer to the brain, in readings of connectionism, where there is no “representation” of external information in a simple locatable manner. Instead of any such positivity, there are only relational effects emerging from differences between the weights that comprise the neural network; the individual weights of connections between the structurally identical units having no significance intrinsically (Cilliers, 1990).

Similarly, as stated, it is LeDoux’s central argument that it is the relationship between synapses that constitutes a function and, ultimately, mind and self. As noted, against this logic of identity through difference, there runs another type of logic, traceable we suggest to LeDoux’s utilisation and entrenchment in the information processing model of first generation cognitive science and, beyond this, to science’s origins in positivism and causal determinism and, beyond even this, the long tradition of the metaphysics of presence. This is apparent, for example, in his jarring reference, in a context where “neural synchrony” (simultaneous activity) creates coherence, to the production line discourse of the “transfer” and “storage” of information (LeDoux, 2002, pp. 193–194). Against this nostalgia for coherence as presence (the omniscience and omnipotence of consciousness) and determinist relationships between positive elements, we here read and privilege LeDoux’s other discourse, that of coherence through difference, a mutable self through the simultaneous plasticity and vulnerability of the synaptic connection, and identity through an un-circumscribable openness to context extending to the extra-neural. In complexity theory this would be regarded as a complex system (Cilliers, 1998), something that puts paid to classic science’s promise of knowledge providing us with complete control and prediction (Turner, 2006).

Conclusion

Wilson (2004) refers to how “the unavoidable, unsettling, difficult to resolve character of neurology is articulated … through close empirical attention to neurology itself” (p. 27). However, does our reading of LeDoux’s Synaptic Self provide a demonstration of such a disruptive neurology? Illustrated above is a play of dominances where the explicit (consciousness) is often temporally subjugated by the implicit (unconscious processes); where, for example, the effects of “stress” decentre attempts at self-awareness and agency. LeDoux’s effort to invert this hierarchy by reasserting the “yet to come” cogito in the midst of such a subcortical usurpation obscures a dynamic and complex set of relationships between structures/functions. He articulates a primary concern with cohesion; the integration and co-ordination of a multiplicity so as to produce the singularity of the self. His attempt to achieve this through the aforementioned cogito-centrism obscures the vulnerable yet dynamic cohesion that is achieved through plasticity, where identity is profoundly embedded in context.

In which ways then does this reading of LeDoux’s neurological self generate potentially emancipatory alternatives in our contemporary “brain society”? This is a significant question given the now common recognition that the notion of a pliable brain, one marked by plasticity, does not provide a form of resistance or counter-narrative within contemporary global capitalism where individual adaptability to rapid change is seen as the bedrock for survival of both capitalism and the entrepreneurial neoliberal subject (Hardt & Negri, 2000; Papadopoulos, 2003; Rose, 2007). Although, as Malabou (2008) points out, mutability as the only essential feature of our brain resists the grounding of more florid universalist accounts of human nature, the plastic brain provides no counter to the autonomous individualism that grounds neoliberal agendas. Aside from this, the spectres of reductionism and dualism also stay in place; social complexity is reduced to the internal workings of the solitary body’s adaptable brain, thus re-instantiating a quite traditional social/individual binary.

The neoliberal co-option of neuroscience to justify its demand that we as workers become increasingly pliable and accommodating to capital’s needs (Malabou, 2008) would, however, be a narrow reading of the neurological body offered by LeDoux. Lost in such a caricature is both the intimate environmental embeddedness of the brain LeDoux describes and, as Malabou (2008) argues, the resistance inherent in the notion of plasticity itself. A self so open to its surroundings cannot sustain the sharp binary distinction of the individual/social nor can the complexity of such a relationship to the extra-neural be reduced to that of a complicated relationship. The impossibility of such a reduction troubles the validity of constant calls for increasing control and surveillance of society where democracy is undermined in search of security, where an elitist and bureaucratic executive claims to know what is best for the people through its faith in and promotion of technological innovation. A brain so intimately embedded cannot be reduced to the fantasies of an ideology; an economy imposed to silence, vilify, or pathologise a vast play of differences. Any imposition only sets up tensions as the internal neural culture will always exceed the distortions relentlessly asserted and marketed by a dominant class. Such a resistance is not only born out of an organ embedded in the fullness of the here-and-now but one which is essentially temporal and where, accordingly, the traces of the past cannot be simply erased to accommodate the latest market demand identified by the ruling class. We remember and act in many ways as our neural architecture is composed of multiple traces both conscious and unconscious. Furthermore, Malabou (2008) indicates that capitalism’s reading of plasticity is an impoverished one where it is reduced to the capacity to receive form, an interpretation that excludes its two other capacities of also being able to give and overwhelm form.

LeDoux’s self, his “dramatic ensemble,” puts paid to any simple assertion of the self as endlessly pliable (and thus obstructive or pathological if it resists), rational, and free (and thus fully responsible for its actions), or unconscious (and thus in need of external control). LeDoux’s self is not the neoliberal subject; autonomous, independent, rational, and free; it is something far more intimate, excessive, and complex, and is hence essentially resistant to the machinations of neoliberal governmentality.