Neurology Center

A fascinating new paper: Morgellons Disease, or Antipsychotic-Responsive Delusional Parasitosis, in an HIV Patient: Beliefs in The Age of the Internet

Weapons of Mass Destruction. Nuclear, chemical and biological weapons. They're really nasty, right?

Well, some of them are. Nuclear weapons are Very Destructive Indeed. Even a tiny one, detonated in the middle of a major city, would probably kill hundreds of thousands. A medium-sized nuke could kill millions. The biggest would wipe a small country off the map in one go.

Chemical and biological weapons, on the other hand, while hardly nice, are just not on the same scale.

Sure, there are nightmare scenarios - a genetically engineered supervirus that kills a billion people - but they're hypothetical. If someone does design such a virus, then we can worry. As it is, biological weapons have never proven very useful. The 2001 US anthrax letters killed 5 people. Jared Loughner killed 6 with a gun he bought from a chain store.

Chemical weapons are little better. They were used heavily in WW1 and the Iran-Iraq War against military targets and killed many but never achieved a decisive victory, and the vast majority of deaths in these wars were caused by plain old bullets and bombs. Iraq's use of chemical weapons against Kurds in Halabja killed perhaps 5,000 - but this was a full-scale assault by an advanced air force, lasting several hours, on a defenceless population.

When a state-of-the-art nerve agent was used in the Tokyo subway attack, after much preparation by the cult responsible, who had professional chemists and advanced labs, 13 people died. In London on the 7th July 2005, terrorists killed 52 people with explosives made from haircare products.

Nuclear weapons aside, the best way to cause mass destruction is just to make an explosion, the bigger the better; yet conventional explosives, no matter how big, are not "WMDs", while chemical and biological weapons are.

So it seems to me that the term and the concept of "WMDs" is fundamentally unhelpful. It lumps together the apocalyptically powerful with the much less destructive. If you have to discuss everything except guns and explosives in one category, terms like "Unconventional weapons" are better as they avoid the misleading implication that all of these weapons are very, and equivalently, deadly; but grouping them together at all is risky.

That's WMDs. But there are plenty of other unhelpful concepts out there, some of which I've discussed previously. Take the concept of "major depressive disorder", for example. At least as the term is currently used, it lumps together extremely serious cases requiring hospitalization with mild "symptoms" which 40% of people experience by age 32.

Last week I was at a discussion about New Media, and someone mentioned that they'd been put off from writing content online because of a comment on one of their articles accusing them of being "stupid".

I found this surprising - not the comment, but that anyone would take it so personally. It's the internet. You will get called names. Everyone does. It doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you.

I suspect this is a generational issue. People who 'grew up online' know, as Penny Arcade explained, that

The sad fact is that there are millions of people whose idea of fun is to find people they disagree with, and mock them. And they're right, it can be fun - why else do you think people like Jon Stewart are so popular? - but that's all it is, entertainment. If you're on the receiving end, don't take it seriously.

If you write something online, and a lot of people read it, you will get slammed. Someone, somewhere, will disagree with you and they'll tell you so, in no uncertain terms. This is true whatever you write about, but some topics are like a big red rag to the herds of bulls out there.

Just to name a few, if you say anything vaguely related to climate change, religion, health, the economy, feminism or race, you might as well be holding a placard with a big arrow pointing down at you and "Sling Mud Here" on it.

The point is - it's them, not you. They are not interested in you, they don't know you, it's not you. True, they might tailor their insults a bit; if you're a young woman you might be, say, a "stupid girl" where a man would merely get called an "idiot". But this doesn't mean that the attacks are a reflection on you in any way. You just happen to be the one in the line of fire.

What do you do about this? Nothing.

Trying to enter into a serious debate is pointless. Insulting them back can be fun, just remember that if you find it fun, you've become one of them: "he who stares too long into the abyss...", etc. Complaining to the moderators might help, but unless the site has a rock solid zero-tolerance-for-fuckwads policy, probably not. Where the blight has taken root, like Comment is Free, I'd not waste your time complaining. Just ignore it and carry on.

The most important thing is not to take it personally. Do not get offended. Do not care. Because no-one else cares. Especially the people who wrote the comments. They presumably care about whatever "issue" prompted their attack, but they don't care about you. If anything, you should be pleased, because on the internet, the only stuff that doesn't attract stupid comments is the stuff that no-one reads.

I've heard these attacks referred to as "policing" existing hierarchies or "silencing" certain types of people. This seems to me to be granting them far more respect than they deserve. With the actual police, if you break the rules, they will physically arrest you. They have power. Internet trolls don't: if they succeed in policing or silencing anybody, it's because their targets let them boss them around. They're nobody; they're not your problem.

If you can't help being offended by such comments, don't read them, but ideally you shouldn't need to resort to that. For one thing, it means you miss the sensible comments (and there's always a few). But fundamentally, you shouldn't need to do this, because you really shouldn't care what some anonymous joker from the depths of the internet thinks about you.

Freud's The Interpretation of Dreams is a very long book but the essential theory is very simple: dreams are thoughts. While dreaming, we are thinking about stuff, in exactly the same way as we do when awake. The difference is that the original thoughts rarely appear as such, they are transformed into weird images.

Only emotions survived unaltered. A thought about how you're angry at your boss for not giving you a raise might become a dream where you're a cop angrily chasing a bank robber, but not into one where you're a bank robber happily counting his loot. By interpreting the meaning of dreams, the psychoanalyst could work out what the patient really felt or wanted.

The problem of course is that it's easy to make up "interpretations" that follows this rule, whatever the dream. If you did dream that you were happily counting your cash after failing to get a raise, Freud could simply say that your dream was wish-fulfilment - you were dreaming of what you wanted to happen, getting the raise.

But hang on, maybe you didn't want the raise, and you were happy not to get it, because it supported your desire to quit that crappy job and find a better one...

Despite all that, since reading Freud I've found myself paying more attention to my dreams (once you start it's hard to stop) and I've found that his rule does ring true: emotions in dreams are "real", and sometimes they can be important reminders of what you really feel about something.

Most of my dreams have no emotions: I see and hear stuff, but feel very little. But sometimes, maybe one time in ten, they are accompanied by emotions, often very strong ones. These always seem linked to the content of the dream, rather than just being random brain activity: I can't think of a dream in which I was scared of something that I wouldn't normally be scared of, for example.

Generally my dreams have little to do with my real life, but those that do are often the most emotional ones, and it's these that I think provide insights. For example, I've had several dreams in the past six months about running; in every case, they were very happy ones.

Until several months ago I was a keen runner but I've let this slip and got out of shape since. While awake, I've regretted this, a bit, but it wasn't until I reflected on my dreams that I realized how important running was to me and how much I regret giving it up.

While awake, we're always thinking about things on multiple levels: we don't just want X, we think "I want X" (not the same thing), and then we go on to wonder "But should I want X?", "Why do I want X?", "What about Y, would that be better?", etc. Thoughts get piled up on top of one another: it's all very cluttered.

In a dream, most of the layers go silent, and the underlying feeling comes closer to the surface. The principle is the same, in many ways, as this.

But how do I know that feelings in dreams are the "real" ones? In most respects, dreams are less real than waking stuff: we dream about all kinds of crazy stuff. And even if we accept that dreams offer a window into our "underlying" feelings, who's to say that deeper is better or more real?

Well, "buried" feelings matter whenever they're not really buried. If a desire was somehow "repressed" to the point of having no influence at all, it might as well not exist. But my feelings about running were not unconscious as such - I was aware of them before I had these dreams - but I was "repressing" them, not in any mysterious sense, but just in terms of telling myself that it wasn't a big deal, I'd start again soon, I didn't have time, etc.

The problem was that this "repression" was annoying, it was causing long-term frustration etc. In dreams, all of these mild emotions spanning several months were compressed into powerful feelings for the duration of the dream (a few minutes, although the dreams "felt like" they lasted hours).

Overall, I don't think it's possible or useful to interpret dreams as metaphorical representations in a Freudian sense (a train going into a tunnel = sex, or whatever). I suspect that dreams are more or less random activity in the visual and memory areas of the brain. But that doesn't mean they're meaningless: they're activity in your brain, so they can tell you about what you think and feel.

An unusually gripping genetics paper from Biological Psychiatry: Pagnamenta et al.

The authors discuss a family where two out of the three children were diagnosed with autism. In 2009, they detected a previously unknown copy number variant mutation in the two affected brothers: a 594 kb deletion knocking out two genes, called DOCK4 and IMMP2L.

Yet this mutation was also carried by their non-autistic mother and sister, suggesting that it wasn't responsible for the autism. The mother's side of the family, however, have a history of dyslexia or undiagnosed "reading difficulties"; all of the 8 relatives with the mutation "performed poorly on reading assessment".

Further investigation revealed that the affected boys also carried a second, entirely separate, novel deletion, affecting the gene CNTNAP5. Their mother and sister did not. This mutation came from their father, who was not diagnosed with autism but apparently had "various autistic traits".

Perhaps it was the combination of the two mutations that caused autism in the two affected boys. The mother's family had a mutation that caused dyslexia; the father's side had one that caused some symptoms of autism but was not, by itself, enough to cause the disorder per se.

However, things aren't so clear. There were cases of diagnosed autism spectrum disorders in the father's family, although few details are given and DNA was only available from one of the father's relatives. So it may have been that the autism was all about the CNTNAP5, and this mutation just has a variable penetrance, causing "full-blown" autism in some people and merely traits in others (like the father).

In order to try to confirm whether these two mutations do indeed cause dyslexia and autism, they searched for them in several hundred unrelated autism and dyslexia patients as well as healthy controls. They detected the a DOCK4 deletion in 1 out of 600 dyslexics (and in his dyslexic father, but not his unaffected sister), but not in 2000 controls. 3 different CNTNAP5 mutations were found in the affected kids from 3 out of 143 autism families, although one of them was also found in over 1000 controls.

This is how psychiatric genetics is shaping up: someone finds a rare mutation in one family, they follow it up, and it's only carried by one out of several hundred other cases. So there are almost certainly hundreds of genes "for" disorders like autism, and it only takes a mutation in one (or two) to cause autism.

Here's another recent example: they found PTCHD1 variants in a full 1% of autism cases. It seems to me that autism, for example, is one of the things that happens when something goes wrong during brain development. Hundreds of genes act in synchrony to build a brain; it only takes one playing out of tune to mess things up, and autism is one common result.

Mental retardation and epilepsy are the other main ones, and we know that there are dozens or hundreds of different forms of these conditions each caused by a different gene or genes. The million dollar question is what it is that makes the autistic brain autistic, as opposed to, say, epileptic.

The "rare variants" model has some interesting implications. The father in the Pagnamenta et al. study had never been diagnosed with anything. He had what the authors call "autistic traits", but presumably he and everyone just thought of those as part of who he was - and they could have been anything from shyness, to preferring routine over novelty, to being good at crosswords.

Had he not carried the CNTNAP5 mutation, he'd have been a completely different person. He might well have been drawn to a very different career, he'd probably never have married the woman he did, etc.

Of course, that doesn't mean that it's "the gene for being him"; all of his other 23,000 genes, and his environment, came together to make him who he was. But the point is that these differences don't just pile up on top of each other; they interact. One little change can change everything.

Link: BishopBlog on why behavioural genetics is more complicated than some people want you to think.

Pagnamenta, A., Bacchelli, E., de Jonge, M., Mirza, G., Scerri, T., Minopoli, F., Chiocchetti, A., Ludwig, K., Hoffmann, P., & Paracchini, S. (2010). Characterization of a Family with Rare Deletions in CNTNAP5 and DOCK4 Suggests Novel Risk Loci for Autism and Dyslexia Biological Psychiatry, 68 (4), 320-328 DOI: 10.1016/j.biopsych.2010.02.002

You're watching a horror movie.

The characters are going about their lives, blissfully unaware that something horrifying is about to happen. You the viewer know that things are going to end badly, though, because you know it's a horror movie.

Someone opens a closet - a bloody corpse could fall out! Or they're drinking a glass of water - which could be infected with a virus! Or they're talking to some guy - who's probably a serial killer! And so on.

The effect of this - and a good director can get a lot of mileage from it - is that scenes which would otherwise be entirely mundane, are experienced as scary, purely because you know that something scary is going to happen, so you see potential horror in every innocent little thing. An expectation as to what's going to happen, leads to you interpreting events in a certain way, and this creates certain emotions.

In a medical context, that would be called a placebo effect. Or a nocebo effect when expectations make people feel worse rather than better.

The horror movie analogy is useful, because it shows that placebo effects don't just happen to other people. We all like to think that if we were given a placebo treatment, we wouldn't be fooled. Unlike all those silly, suggestible, placebo responders, we'd stay as sick as ever until we got a proper cure.

I wouldn't be so sure. We're always interpreting the world around us, and interpreting our own thoughts and feelings, on the basis of our expectations and beliefs about what's going on. We don't suddenly stop doing this when it comes to health.

Suppose you have the flu. You feel terrible, and you're out of aspirin. You don't think you'll be able to make that meeting this afternoon, so you phone in sick.

Now, clearly, flu is a real disease, and it really does make you feel ill. But how do you know that you wouldn't be able to handle the meeting? Unless you have an extensive history of getting the flu in all its various forms, this is an interpretation, a best guess as to what you'll feel in the future, and it might be too pessimistic.

Maybe, if you tried, you'd get on OK. Maybe if you had some aspirin that would reassure you enough to give it a go. And just maybe it would still have worked even if those "aspirins" were just sugar pills...

Link: See my previous posts I Feel X, Therefore Y and How Blind is Double Blind?

I'm reading Le Rouge et le Noir ("The Red and the Black"), an 1830 French novel by Stendhal...

One passage in particular struck me. Stendhal is describing two characters who are falling in love (mostly); both are young, have lived all their lives in a backwater provincial town, and neither has been well educated.

This map is not “upside down”. It looks that way to us; the sense that north is up is a deeply ingrained one. It's grim up north, Dixie is away down south. Yet this is pure convention. The earth is a sphere in space. It has a north and a south, but no up and down.

There’s a famous experiment involving four guys and a door. An unsuspecting test subject is lured into a conversation with a stranger, actually a psychologist. After a few moments, two people appear carrying a large door, and they walk right between the subject and the experimenter.

Behind the door, the experimenter swaps places with one of the door carriers, who may be quite different in voice and appearance. Most subjects don't notice the swap. Perception is lazy: whenever it can get away with it, it merely tells us that things are as we expect, rather than actually showing us stuff. We often do not really perceive things at all. Did the subject really see the first guy? The second? Either?

The inverted map makes us actually see the Earth's geography, rather than just showing us the expected "countries" and "continents". I was struck by how parochial Europe is – the whole place is little more than a frayed end of the vast Eurasian landmass, no more impressive than the one at the other end, Russia's Chukotski. Africa dominates the scene: it can no longer be written off as that poor place at the bottom.

One of the most common observations in psychotherapy of people with depression or anxiety is that they hold themselves to impossibly high standards, although they have a perfectly sensible evaluation of everyone else. Their own failures are catastrophic; other people's are minor setbacks. Other people's successes are well-deserved triumphs; their own are never good enough, flukes, they don't count.

The first step in challenging these unhelpful patterns of thought is to simply point out the double-standard: why are you such a perfectionist about yourself, when you're not when it comes to other people? The idea being to help people to think about themselves in more like healthy way they already think about others. Turn the map of yourself upside down - what do you actually see?

You've probably heard about Crazy Like Us, the new book by Urban Tribes author Ethan Watters. But you probably haven't bought it yet. You really should.

Crazy Like Us is a vivid, humane, and thought-provoking examination of "the globalization of the American psyche" - the process by which, slowly but surely, the world has adopted America's way of thinking about mental illness.

• Ethan Watters' Crazy Like Us blog.
  
• The Americanization of Mental Illness, Watters' much-read NYT article which is a fine summary of the book's argument, but being so short, misses much of the human detail which make Crazy Like Us so interesting, in particular when Watters is writing about the response of PTSD experts to the 2004 tsunami, and the life of a Madagascan woman with schizophrenia and her family.
  
• Exporting American Mental Illness, an excellent discussion of the article over at Neuroanthropology.
• Did Antidepressants Depress Japan? A 2004 article on the Japanese antidepressants and depression story.