Neurology Center

Some ideas seem so nice, so inoffensive and so harmless, that it seems a shame to criticize them.

Crucially, however, the same was not true of physical exercise which was part of your job. That didn't help at all, and indeed the most strenuous jobs were associated with more depression (but less anxiety, strangely).

How does this fit with the very popular idea that exercise helps in depression? Well, many randomized trials have indeed shown exercise to be better than not-exercize for depression, but the problem is that these trials are never really placebo controlled. You can usually tell whether or not you're going jogging in the park every morning.

So the direct effects of exercise per se are hard to distinguish from the social and psychological meaning of "exercise". Knowing that you're starting a program of exercise could make you feel better: you're taking positive action to improve your life, you're not helpless in the face of your problems. By contrast, doing heavy work as part of your job, while physiologically beneficial, is unlikely to be so much fun.

This doesn't mean that telling people to get more exercise isn't a good idea, but if the meaning of exercise is more important than the physiology, that has some big implications for how it ought to be used.

It's good news for people who just can't take part in strenuous physical exercise because of physical illness or disability, something which is quite common in mental health. It suggests that these people could still get the benefits attributed to exercise even if they did less demanding forms of meaningful activity.

But it's bad news for doctors tempted to default to "get out and go jogging" whenever they see a potentially depressed person. Because if it's the meaning of exercise that counts, and you recommend exercise in a way which sounds like you're dismissing their problems, the meaning will be anything but helpful.

In clinical trials of exercise, the exercise program has, almost by definition, a positive value: it's the whole point of the trial. And the participants just wouldn't have volunteered for the trial if they didn't, on some level, think it would make them feel better.

But not everyone thinks that way. If you go to your doctor looking to get medication, or psychotherapy, or something like that, and you're told that all you need to do is go and get more exercise, it would be easy to see that as a brush-off, especially if it's done unsympathetically. The point is, if exercise doesn't feel like a positive step, it probably won't be one.

Harvey SB, Hotopf M, Overland S, & Mykletun A (2010). Physical activity and common mental disorders. The British journal of psychiatry : the journal of mental science, 197, 357-64 PMID: 21037212

Pont St. Esprit is a small town in southern France. In 1951 it became famous as the site of one of the most mysterious medical outbreaks of modern times.

As Dr's Gabbai, Lisbonne and Pourquier wrote to the British Medical Journal, 15 days after the "incident":

The first symptoms appeared after a latent period of 6 to 48 hours. In this first phase, the symptoms were generalized, and consisted in a depressive state with anguish and slight agitation.

After some hours the symptoms became more clearly defined, and most of the patients presented with digestive disturbances... Disturbances of the autonomic nervous system accompanied the digestive disorders-gusts of warmth, followed by the impression of "cold waves", with intense sweating crises. We also noted frequent excessive salivation.

The patients were pale and often showed a regular bradycardia (40 to 50 beats a minute), with weakness of the pulse. The heart sounds were rather muffled; the extremities were cold... Thereafter a constant symptom appeared - insomnia lasting several days... A state of giddiness persisted, accompanied by abundant sweating and a disagreeable odour. The special odour struck the patient and his attendants.

Yes, England has finally won something. After a poor showing in the 2010 World Cup, the Eurovision Song Contest, and the global economic crisis, we're officially #1 in neuroscience. Which clearly is the most important measure of a nation's success.

According to data collated by ScienceWatch.com and released recently, each English neuroscience paper from the past 10 years has been cited, on average, 24.53 times, making us the most cited country in the world relative to the total number of papers published (source here). We're second only to the USA in terms of overall citations.

(In this table, "Rank" refers to total number of citations).

Why is this? I suspect it owes a lot to the fact that England has produced many of the technical papers which everyone refers to (although few people have ever read). Take the paper Dynamic Causal Modelling by Karl Friston et al from London. It's been cited 649 times since 2003, because it's the standard reference for the increasingly popular fMRI technique of the same name.

Or take Ashburner and Friston's Voxel-Based Morphometry—The Methods, cited over 2000 times in the past 10 years, which introduced a method for measuring the size of different brain regions. Or take...most of Karl Friston's papers, actually. He's the single biggest contributor to the way in which modern neuroimaging is done.

How do you know whether a scientific idea is a good one or not?


The only sure way is to study it in detail and know all the technical ins and outs. But good ideas and bad ideas behave differently over time, and this can provide clues as to which ones are solid; useful if you're a non-expert trying to evaluate a field, or a junior researcher looking for a career.

Today's ideas are the basis for tomorrow's experiments. A good idea will lead to experiments which provide interesting results, generating new ideas, which will lead to more experiments, and so on.

Before long, it will be taken as granted that it's true, because so many successful studies assumed it was. The mark of a really good idea is not that it's always being tested and found to be true; it's that it's an unstated assumption of studies which could only work if it were true. Good ideas grow onwards and upwards, in an expanding tree, with each exciting new discovery becoming the boring background of the next generation.

Astronomers don't go around testing whether light travels at a finite speed as opposed to an infinite one; rather, if it were infinite, their whole set-up would fail.

Bad ideas generate experiments too, but they don't work out. The assumptions are wrong. You try to explain why something happens, and you find that it doesn't happen at all. Or you come up with an "explanation", but next time, someone comes along and finds evidence suggesting the "true" explanation is the exact opposite.

Unfortunately, some bad ideas stick around, for political or historical reasons or just because people are lazy. What tends to happen is that these ideas are, ironically, more "productive" than good ideas: they are always giving rise to new hypotheses. It's just that these lines of research peter out eventually, meaning that new ones have to take their place.

As an example of a bad idea, take the theory that "vaccines cause autism". This hypothesis is, in itself, impossible to test: it's too vague. Which vaccines? How do they cause autism? What kind of autism? In which people? How often?

The basic idea that some vaccines, somewhere, somehow, cause some autism, has been very productive. It's given rise to a great many, testable, ideas. But every one which has been tested has proven false.

First there was the idea that the MMR vaccine causes autism, linked to a "leaky gut" or "autistic enterocolitis". It doesn't, and it's not linked to that. Then along came the idea that actually it's mercury preservatives in vaccines that cause autism. It doesn't. No problem - maybe it's aluminium? Or maybe it's just the Hep B vaccine? And so on.

At every turn, it's back to square one after a few years, and a new idea is proposed. "We know this is true; now we just need to work out why and how...". Except that turns out to be tricky. Hmm. Maybe, if you keep ending up back at square one, you ought to find a new square to start from.

A group of Italian psychiatrists claim to explain How Neuroscience and Behavioral Genetics Improve Psychiatric Assessment: Report on a Violent Murder Case.

The paper presents the horrific case of a 24 year old woman from Switzerland who smothered her newborn son to death immediately after giving birth in her boyfriend's apartment. After her arrest, she claimed to have no memory of the event. She had a history of multiple drug abuse, including heroin, from the age of 13.

Recently, I wrote about diurnal mood variation: the way in which depression often waxes and wanes over the course of the day. Mornings are generally the worst.

A related phenomenon is late insomnia, or "early morning waking".

But this phrase is rather an understatement. Everyone's woken up early. Maybe you had a flight to catch. Or you were drunk and threw up. Or you just needed a pee. That's early morning waking, but not the depressive kind. When you're depressed, the waking up is the least of your problems.

Suddenly, you are awake, more awake than you've ever been. And you know something terrible has happened, or is about to happen, or that you've done something terribly wrong. It feels like a Eureka moment. You can be a level-headed person, not given to jumping to conclusions, but you will be convinced of this.

In a panic attack, you think you're going to die. Your heart is beating too fast, your breathing's too deep: your body is exploding, you can feel it too closely. With this, With this, you think you should die or even, in some sense, already have. It feels cold: you can no longer feel the warmth of your own body.

The moment passes; the terrible truth that you were so certain of five minutes ago becomes a little doubtful. Maybe it's not quite so bad. At this point, the wakefulness goes too, and you become, well, as tired as you ought to be at 3 am. You try to go back to sleep. If you're lucky, you succeed. If not, you lie awake until morning in a state of miserable contemplation.

While it's happening, you think that you're going to feel this way forever; bizarrely, you think you always have felt this way. In fact, this is the darkest hour.

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Why does this happen? There has been almost no research on early morning waking. Presumably, because it's so hard to study. To observe it, you would have to get your depressed patients to spend all night in your brain scanner (or, if you prefer, on your analyst's couch), and even then, it doesn't happen every night.

But here's my theory: the key is the biology of sleep. There are many stages of sleep; at a very rough approximation there's dreaming REM, and dreamless slow-wave. Now, REM sleep tends to happen during the second half of the night - the early morning.

During REM sleep, the brain is, in many respects, awake. This is presumably what allows us to have concious dreams. Whereas in slow wave sleep, the brain really is offline; slow waves are also seen in the brain of people in comas, or under deep anaesthesia.

When we're awake, the brain is awash with modulatory neurotransmitters, such as serotonin, norepinephrine, and acetylcholine. During REM, acetylcholine is present, while in slow-wave sleep it's not; indeed acetylcholine may well be what stops slow waves and "wakes up" the cortex.

But unlike during waking, serotonin and norepinephrine neurons are entirely inactive during REM sleep - and only during REM sleep. This fact is surprisingly little-known, but it seems to me that it explains an awful lot.

For one thing, it explains why drugs which increase serotonin levels, such as SSRI antidepressants, inhibit REM sleep. Indeed, high doses of MAOi antidepressants prevent REM entirely (without any noticeable ill-effects, suggesting REM is dispensable). SSRIs only partially suppress it.

Ironically, SSRIs can make dreams more vivid and colourful. I've been told by sleep scientists that this is because they delay the onset of REM so the dreams are "shifted" later into the night making you more likely to remember them when you wake up. But there could be more to it than that.

The fact that REM is a serotonin-free zone also explains wet dreams. Serotonin is well known to suppresses ejaculation; that's why SSRIs delay orgasm, one of their least popular side effects, although it's useful to treat premature ejaculation: every cloud has a silver lining.

So, having said all that: could this also explain the terror of early-morning waking? Suppose that, for whatever reason, you woke up during REM sleep, but your serotonin cells didn't wake up quick enough, leaving you awake, but with no serotonin (a situation which never normally occurs, remember). How would that feel?

Using a technique called acute tryptophan depletion (ATD), you can lower someone's serotonin levels. In most people, this doesn't do very much, but in some people with a history of depression, it causes them to relapse. Here's what happened to one patient after ATD:

[her] previous episodes of clinical depression were associated with the loss of important friendships had, while depressed, been preoccupied with fears that she would never be able to sustain a relationship. She had not had such fears since then.

She had been fully recovered and had not taken any medication for over a year. About 2 h after drinking the tryptophan-free mixture she experienced a sudden onset of sadness, despair, and uncontrollable crying. She feared that a current important relationship would end.

We don't know why tryptophan depletion does this to some people, or why it doesn't affect everyone the same way, and it's pure speculation that early morning waking has anything to do with this. But having said that, the pieces do seem to fit.