The Brain That Changed Everything

[Chris_]

The Brain That Changed Everything

When a surgeon cut into Henry Molaison's skull to treat him for epilepsy, he inadvertently created the most important brain-research subject of our time — a man who could no longer remember, who taught us everything we know about memory. Six decades later, another daring researcher is cutting into Henry's brain. Another revolution in brain science is about to begin.

Brain surgery is an ancient craft — there is a four-thousand-year-old hieroglyphic text describing successful operations — and among my grandfather's most interesting artifacts was a collection of premodern and tribal neurosurgical instruments. As a kid, I found those picks and blades fascinating and terrible to contemplate. It wasn't just the age of the tools, it was the acts they were intended for. Brain surgery, whatever the era, always requires at least two frightening qualities in its practitioners: the will to make forcible entry into another man's skull, and the hubris to believe you can fix the problems inside.

My grandfather had no problem with the basic idea of treating psychiatric problems through brain surgery. He believed that psychosurgical procedures might eventually, as he once wrote, relegate "psychoanalysis to that scientific limbo where perhaps it belongs." But he didn't like the lobotomy. It was too blunt, too imprecise, knocked everything out, the good with the bad. It makes people "easy to control and easy to handle," he said, "but, God forbid, at what a cost!" There had to be a better way. Some way to achieve the lobotomy's beneficial effects — the calming, the reduction in anxiety — without the lobotomy's attendant insidious, zombielike stupor.

So he tinkered. He began experimenting, at asylums in and around Hartford, with procedures he called "fractional lobotomies," attempting to target only the specific brain structures he believed were implicated in a particular patient's problems. Soon he was reporting a "most gratifying improvement in depressions, psycho-neuroses and tension states without any gross blunting of personality." And he mused about possible future advances and refinements to his approach, wondering whether his experiments in targeted brain lesioning might "bring us one blind step nearer" to the locations of the "fundamental mechanisms of mental disease and of epilepsy."

Around this time, Henry showed up in his office for a consultation.

Esquire