By Gregory Pence



As I pulled up to Donaldson Prison, the sky darkened behind a tall guard tower, which loomed high above coils of barbed wire and electrified fences. Behind it as klieg lights turned on, guards shooed a hundred inmates into buildings. Momentarily, I regretted volunteering to speak in this program that brings a UAB professor here each month.

I soon pass through metal detectors and surrender my driver’s license. As I walk through three more checkpoints, I feel claustrophobic, especially when huge, sliding steel doors close behind me. Eventually, I enter the library, a tiny room with a few dozen books. Outside along the hallway, about 25 inmates line up.

Dressed in white, they’re mostly old black men. Among them are five whites and four youngsters. For the acts they’ve done, they’re probably here for life. They quietly enter and sit on folding chairs. While leaning against a table, one tall, lanky black guard watches us.

I talk about neuroethics: ethical issues of treating, scanning and enhancing the brain. I discuss drugs, imaging, implants and brain-computer interactions. I stress that neuroscientists hope to use fMRI scans to differentiate truthful brain-states from deceptive ones. Already, some scientists claim to diagnose deception in subjects who perform simple tasks.

But could that system be beat? The inmates exchange knowing looks: They think they can beat lie detectors. What about brain scans that supposedly diagnose personalities prone to crime, mental illness, racism or lack of empathy? Should those scans be used in sentencing?

Now the inmates become agitated. Maybe they couldn’t beat such scans. One said he had scored high on the social deviance scale of a famous personality test. In his parole hearing, should its results be held against him?

One problem here is the "myth of measuring" or the "myth of imaging." Simply because green lights turn on while a dye courses through a brain and the subject simultaneously gets pleasure eating ice cream doesn't mean that every time that green light comes on, the subject is eating ice cream. Perhaps some neurons got crossed or perhaps he’s just remembering eating a great bowl of ice cream. Unless we can get inside heads and look, to understand the internal qualia or self-conscious feel, how do we know the brain-correlates are really there? The old philosophical Problem of Other Minds still exists, despite our new toys in neurology.

The deeper issue concerns the state’s right to scan our brains. When the state invades our bodies or minds, it trespasses natural boundaries. In Montgomery, authorities in the 1960’s once inserted IUD's in three young black women on welfare, starting a firestorm of controversy. Is it much different when the state invades your mind, seeking what turns you on? What about American citizens who are suspected terrorists? Can the CIA scan their brains without a warrant?

Personally, I believe in a right to cognitive privacy, even for prisoners. Is it crime to fantasize, especially if you're in jail? I don’t think so. Scanning prisoners’ brains seems like Clockwork Orange.

This brings up one of the strangest things about my visit. While some people invade the cognitive privacy of inmates, others nurture it. This prison was the setting of the 2007 movie, The Dhamma Brothers, where 20 inmates mastered the self-control of silent, ten-day long, intensive Vipassana meditation. While I was inside Donaldson, I saw the blue mats and room where the men still meditate.

From 1810 until 1840, phrenology, championed by German physician Franz Joseph Gall, influenced people. Supposedly, by palpating the bumps on a head, Gall could diagnose personality, virtues or vices. We now think that nonsense. Several recent books, such as Satel's and Lilienfeld's Brainwashed: The Seductive Appeal of Mindless Neuroscience, warn against the premature use of neuroscience in the courtroom.

We would be wise to heed their warnings.

Gregory Pence is chair of the department of philosophy at UAB and directs EMSAP, its BS/MD program. Email: pence@uab.edu.