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< Back to Issue 9 Conferring with Consciousness by Ingrid Sefton 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Heather Sutherland Edited by Steph Liang Down the rabbit hole Indulge me for a moment, will you? I value your opinion. Your opinion, as in, one which has arisen from your mind. I would assume. It would seem unusual to consider that, perhaps, your thoughts are not your own. Stranger still to ponder the possibility that they did not arise from your mind. I digress – or maybe not. For it is this dilemma which I wish to pick your brain on. The mind. The brain. You. Are they one and the same; entwined? What do you think? Again, assuming it is you thinking. Assuming you feel certain enough to agree with this. Really, with what certainty can we say anything? You may be wondering who “I” am. I am but you, of course! I kid, but not entirely. Think of me as the brain; your brain if you wish. An excellent name I gave myself, if you ask me. Before we spiral any deeper into this chasm that is consciousness – because that is what this is about, is that not what this, life, is all about? – I must disclose a few things. One, I do not expect you to have answers to these questions I pose. Because two. We do not have answers. I apologise that I have not come bearing the answers to our existence, that I have not yet unpicked these questions of “who?”, “how?”, “why?”. I come offering an alternative. I wish to present to you these entangled threads of consciousness: of what we currently know, of what we hope to know and of where we can proceed from here. Then it’s back to you. You get to decide what you think (again, with the thinking). Maybe, for you and the workings of your inner mind, consciousness and all it entails will be revealed in full clarity. Maybe not. You certainly won’t know unless you try. A brief neural memoir Many a Nobel prize has been awarded for discoveries relating to the nervous system: from the morphology of neurons (Golgi and Cajal 1906) and their electrical signalling properties (Eccles, Hodgkin and Huxley 1963), to the nature of information processing in the visual system (Hubel and Wiesel 1981) (1). Despite some obvious gaps remaining in what is known about the brain (ahem, that slight issue of consciousness), the field of neuroscience has rapidly progressed over the last century. Gone are the days of thinking I was nothing more than a cooling mechanism for the blood, as Greek philosopher Aristotle once believed (2). How dismissive of my intellect! I assure you, I have far more important things to be doing. Generating the experience of “you”, as one small matter. The techniques developed to study the brain have also rapidly advanced. It was not until the invention of microscopes in the 19 th century that the neuron doctrine even came about . Pioneered by Santiago Ramón y Cajal, this is the (now) well-accepted concept that the nervous system is made up of discrete cells known as neurons, challenging older theories which proposed a continuous neural network (3). Today, neuroscientists have the ability to appreciate my anatomical and functional complexity at a huge range of temporal and spatial resolutions. Whole-brain connectivity can be studied using functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI), while the electrical activity of single neurons can be recorded using patch-clamp electrode technology. Not to mention optogenetics, chemogenetics, viral transduction: while the available experimental techniques are still unable to address all our brainy questions, the field of neuroscience has never been in a better position to get closer to answers. The potential of neurons Neurons: those special, excitable cells that make up the squishy entity I seem to be. The mechanisms of how neurons detect, generate and transmit signals have been described in utmost precision. When I talk of excitable cells, I am not referring to a bunch of cheerful, eager neurons. Excitability, in this context, refers to the fact that neurons can respond to a sensory stimulus by generating and propagating electrical signals, known as action potentials. Clearly, I am made up of slightly more than two neurons cheerfully signalling to each other back and forth. Try 86 billion, between the cortex and cerebellum combined (4). Yet, despite our deep understanding of neural signalling mechanisms, this has yet to reveal an explanation for consciousness. Individual neurons in isolation, it would appear, don’t hold the answers we want. In turn, a focus of neuroscience research has been on the wider “neuronal correlates of consciousness”, the minimal neuronal mechanisms that are sufficient to generate a conscious experience (5). This relates broadly to the generation of consciousness itself, but also to studying the neural underpinnings of specific conscious experiences. For example, which collective neural substrates support the process of visual object recognition. This is often a focus of fMRI studies, which examine brain activity in an attempt to pin-point where in the brain a particular cognitive function may be performed. Fancy techniques aside, some of the most fundamental insights into my regional specialisations have arisen from careful observation following selective lesions or damage to the brain. The critical, yet specific role of Broca’s area in speech production was discovered in 1861 by surgeon Paul Broca’s observations of his patient “Tan”. Tan had lost his ability to produce meaningful speech, yet was still able to comprehend speech; Broca identified a lesion in Tan’s left frontal lobe post-mortem, drawing the conclusion that this region is selectively involved in speech production (6). But what does all of this show us? Perhaps the only thing that neuroscientists can agree on, is that conscious experience is fundamentally, in some way, somehow, related to my activity: the brain. In turn, the activity of the brain is related to the activity of neurons; firing and signalling and transforming information. A lot is known about neurons. Less can be said about specific cognitive functions, yet we can see correlations between the regional brain activity and particular conscious experiences. Here lies my problem. The elephant in the room. How do we get from individual neurons to conscious experience? A map with no destination Enter “The Connectome” and the Human Connectome Project: a collective attempt to map the neuronal connections of the human brain, in an effort to connect structure to function (7). And in turn, for our purposes, to ideally connect this to consciousness. The rationale is that by modelling and trying to “build” a brain using a bottom-up approach, we may therefore understand the mechanisms of how cognitive functions arise. I’m sure it will come as no surprise that this isn’t the simplest of tasks. To measure, record and model billions of neurons and synapses requires techniques, time, and resources that are incredibly hard to come by in sufficient quantities. Excitingly, scientists have recently managed to successfully map a whole brain. That is, of a fly (8). With 3016 neurons and 548000 synapses, this was no simple feat. In case you had forgotten my own complexity, however, let me remind you of my 86 billion neurons, and estimated 1.5 x10 14 total synapses in the cortex alone (4). Progress has also been made on the human front, nonetheless. It was recently announced that a cubic millimetre of human temporal cortex has been completely reconstructed using electron microscopy, involving 1.4 petabytes of electron microscopy data (1000 Terabytes or one quadrillion bytes) (9). One cubic millimetre down, approximately a million to go. Putting practicalities aside, let us suppose we do, one day, manage to map and model an entire human brain, in all its intricacies. What now? What does one actually do with this data, and how would this allow us to better understand how consciousness arises? Up until now, we have been following the train of thought that consciousness, somehow, results from the activity of neurons, yet does not arise from the activity of individual neurons. This leads us to the notion that perhaps consciousness is due to the collective, computational activity of neurons working together – that with enough complexity, and enough information processing, together this will lead to the first-person experience of being “you”. Does this actually make sense? You tell me. Wishful thinking and conscious rocks The notion that, at a certain level of complex neuronal signal processing, a first-person perspective of “being you” (i.e. consciousness) arises is often termed “strong emergence” or “magical emergence” (10). With what we currently know about the properties of neurons, there is fundamentally no reason why this should happen. The “property” of consciousness, which cannot be predicted from the principles of how individual neurons function, seemingly just emerges. Consciousness, therefore, must somehow be greater than the sum of its parts, only emerging when neurons interact as a wider network. Maybe, the answer to this is merely that we don’t understand the mechanisms of neurons as well as we think we do. It could be that we have missed a fundamental property of how neurons operate and upon discovery of this, it would suddenly be completely explicable how consciousness arises. Or maybe, computation and neural signalling is not all there is to it. An alternative line of thinking is that rather than consciousness being a property that “arises”, it is a basic constituent of the universe that is missing from our current model of standard physics (11). That is, consciousness has been present all along and exists in everything. The philosophical view of ‘panpsychism’ embraces this idea to the extreme, proposing that everything within the universe is, to some degree, conscious (12). As in yes, that rock over there might just be conscious. Other theories suggest that consciousness only emerges in a recognisable form in certain conditions or at some critical threshold; myself and all my neurons apparently being one such example of the “right” conditions. Theories of consciousness don’t just stop at computation and fundamental properties of the universe. Quantum physics, microtubule computations, electromagnetic fields; all have been proposed as part of this web of “why” (13). While some theories arguably veer more towards pseudoscience than well-founded scholarship, they all make one thing clear. At this stage, just about every idea remains fair game in the quest for answers. Pondering hard, or hardly pondering? The question of consciousness is far from limited to the field of neuroscience. Philosophers too have long wracked their brains in an attempt to rationalise and unpick this problem. What unites the work of neuroscientists and philosophers alike, along with the many theories of consciousness, is that nothing provides a satisfactory explanation for why consciousness should emerge from the activity of neurons. Philosopher David Chalmers has termed this the “hard problem”. “Why should physical processing give rise to a rich inner life at all? It seems objectively unreasonable that it should, and yet it does” (14). If consciousness is simply the result of high-level processing and the computational activity of neurons, why would we even need to be conscious? If all the brain is doing is computation, and thus everything can be done via computation, there would appear to be no purpose in having a subjective experience of being “you”. Whichever side of consciousness we may be inclined to take, computational, fundamental, or otherwise, the fact remains. We cannot seem to move beyond mere description, to explanation. We have not solved the “hard problem”. A final conundrum, and a sole certainty Physicist Emerson M Pugh once made the somewhat sceptical remark that “if the human brain were so simple that we could understand it, we would be so simple that we couldn't.” (15) Is the reason that we have yet to understand consciousness simply, frustratingly, that we are not meant to? Logical conundrums aside, I rest my case. I hope I have given you some food for thought, or at the very least, not set off too dramatic an existential crisis. Somewhere between the neural wirings of the brain and the experience of consciousness lies an answer, regardless of whether we are destined to find it out. Make of this what you will. And if nothing else, let me try reassuring you once again with the wisdom of René Descartes. “ Cogito, ergo sum ” “ I think, therefore I am ” (16). If you are here, and you are thinking, you are conscious. You, my friend, are you. References Nobel Prizes in nerve signaling. Nobel Prize Outreach. September 16, 2009. Accessed October 18, 2025. https://www.nobelprize.org/prizes/themes/nobel-prizes-in-nerve-signaling-1906-2000/ . Rábano A. Aristotle’ s “mistake”: the structure and function of the brain in the treatises on biology. Neurosciences and History . 2018;6(4):138-43. Golgi C. The neuron doctrine - theory and facts . 1906. p. 190–217. https://www.nobelprize.org/uploads/2018/06/golgi-lecture.pdf Herculano-Houzel S. The human brain in numbers: a linearly scaled-up primate brain. Front Hum Neurosci . 2009;3:31. doi: 10.3389/neuro.09.031.2009 Koch C, Massimini M, Boly M, Tononi G. Neural correlates of consciousness: progress and problems. Nature Reviews Neuroscience . 2016;17(5):307-21. Broca area . Encyclopedia Britannica; 2025. Accessed October 18, 2025. https://www.britannica.com/science/Broca-area Elam JS, Glasser MF, Harms MP, Sotiropoulos SN, Andersson JLR, Burgess GC, et al. The Human Connectome Project: A retrospective. NeuroImage . 2021;244. doi: 10.1016/j.neuroimage.2021.118543 Winding M, Pedigo BD, Barnes CL, Patsolic HG, Park Y, Kazimiers T, et al. The connectome of an insect brain. Science . 2023;379(6636). doi: 10.1126/science.add9330 Shapson-Coe A, Januszewski M, Berger DR, Pope A, Wu Y, Blakely T, et al. A petavoxel fragment of human cerebral cortex reconstructed at nanoscale resolution. Science . 2024;384(6696). doi: 10.1126/science.adk4858 Chalmers D. Strong and Weak Emergence. In: Clayton P, Davies P. The Re-Emergence of Emergence: The Emergentist Hypothesis from Science to Religion . Oxford University Press; 2008. Kitchener PD, Hales CG. What Neuroscientists Think, and Don’t Think, About Consciousness. Frontiers in Human Neuroscience . 2022;16. doi: 10.3389/fnhum.2022.767612 Goff P, William Seager, and Sean Allen-Hermanson. Panpsychism . The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Summer 2022. Seth AK, Bayne T. Theories of consciousness. Nature Reviews Neuroscience . 2022;23(7):439-52. doi: 10.1038/s41583-022-00587-4 Chalmers D. Facing up to the hard problem of consciousness . In: Shear J. Explaining Consciousness: The Hard Problem. MIT Press; 1997. Pugh GE. The Biological Origin of Human Values . Routledge & Kegan Paul; 1978. Descartes R. Principles of Philosophy . 1644. Previous article Next article Entwined back to

< Back to Issue 9 Ancient Asian Alchemy: Big Booms by Isaac Tian 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin Edited by Luci Ackland One question has plagued the human condition since the beginning of time: how can we escape death? Well, we certainly know who didn’t find the answer – the alchemists of ancient China. It’s 210 BC, and you are an alchemist standing before Emperor Qin Shi Huang in his court. You hand him an elixir supposed to grant him immortality and eternal reign. Only the serum contains what we now call “mercury” and if anything, you granted him mortality, as he drops dead before you (1). Where does one begin in this journey to immortality? How do we combine chemicals to find the perfect serum? Keep in mind, we have not even come close to establishing the periodic table at this point (no, that will occur about 1000 years later) (2). Saltpetre – or potassium nitrate – had been used extensively to treat common illnesses and to maintain good health. There’s our starting point (3). The search for this magic elixir persists for the next eleven centuries. We never give up… do we? The ingenuity of the alchemists spoke to them: it told them to mix in a few other ingredients to the saltpetre. With the trio of saltpetre, sulfur and charcoal, gunpowder was henceforth born into this world (4). The alchemists must have been in for a surprise when their “potion of immortality” sparked and exploded before them. So how does gunpowder explode? Why don’t other flammable items like match tips and dry wood explode when we set them alight? It comes down to a few key things. First is our perception of explosions. Chemicals don’t simply “explode” – it’s not an inherent quality of reactions – however, they can combust. Combustion is the release of energy from a fuel. Wood and matches combust, but they do so in a way that is relatively slower than gunpowder. Gunpowder combusts rapidly – so there is a large amount of energy release within a short period of time. Secondly, it’s about the availability of oxygen. Items that combust slowly typically have to wait for the oxygen to trickle in from the surrounding air, since oxygen is a critical component of combustion. This does not apply to gunpowder. The oxygen for its combustion is right there in the nitrate compound (of potassium nitrate – or saltpetre). So unlike burning wood or matches, the combustion does not need to wait for oxygen to arrive from the surrounding environment – it’s already in there with the rest of the powder (5)! To go further on that point: the closer the atoms are, the faster the combustion reaction can progress, because chemical compounds don’t need to wait long for the heat to get to them. Since gunpowder is… well… a powder, it’s rather compact and all the molecules of potassium nitrate, sulfur, and carbon sit tightly next to one another. It is this physical arrangement that permits the fast transfer of heat between molecules, ensuring that a lot of energy can be released at once. Ultimately, when all these physical and chemical phenomena occur in perfect unison, the high temperatures rapidly increase the kinetic energy of surrounding air molecules, causing them to shoot outwards at great speeds to form a “barrier” of sorts. When this barrier, also known as a shockwave, hits your eardrums, the gunpowder delivers what it does best: BOOM! Now, let’s combust some gunpowder, build up some gaseous pressure, and launch ourselves into the modern day. It’s been about twelve centuries – what have we been doing with all the gunpowder? As it turns out, we humans are very inventive, but also violent (Wow – who knew?). We quickly realised that the physical properties of the resulting gases can be harnessed to quickly move very heavy objects (6). Said heavy objects could then be guided in the direction of, say, a human being or a structure. Weaponry derived from gunpowder has existed for a very long time, albeit rather inefficient at first. The introduction of gunpowder to warfare came in the early 10th century, when soldiers applied gunpowder to arrows that would ignite and create fire arrows. Of course, whilst it might have been effective in creating a hole in humans, it was significantly less so when it came to creating holes in walls and structures. Only after 300 years did we then invent cannons and guns. However, those guns were slow – really, really slow – to the point that bows and arrows were actually preferred during warfare of that era. It would be another 600 years before we realised that there were more effective ways of reloading a gun; brandishing a new trend of military technology that would set the stage for the First and Second World Wars (7). By that point, the most terrifying of weapons had begun to stray away from the use of gunpowder. Missiles and rockets began employing other chemicals as propellants, owing to the advantage it had over gunpowder (7). It would also be remiss of this article to omit the exploitation of atomic power – pervading the world with such destruction that gunpowder appeared like a child’s toy (8). The tragic irony of a supposed innovation in immortality leading to mortality by war and conflict will forever embed itself into our history. Even with the right intentions, the invention by the great minds of alchemy has sparked a chain reaction for widespread destruction and warfare. It only makes you wonder – what are we making now that will lead us further astray in the future? References 1. Glancey J. The army that conquered the world. BBC. Accessed August 24, 2025. https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20170411-the-army-that-conquered-the-world 2. Guharay DM. A brief history of the periodic table. ASBMBTODAY. Accessed August 28, 2025. https://www.asbmb.org/asbmb-today/science/020721/a-brief-history-of-the-periodic-table 3. Butler A, Moffett J. Saltpetre in Early and Medieval Chinese Medicine. Asian Medicine . 2009;5(1):173-185. doi: 10.1163/157342109X568982 4. Paradowski, R.J. Invention of Gunpowder and Guns. EBSCO Research Starters. 2022. Accessed August 24, 2025. https://www.ebsco.com/research-starters/history/invention-gunpowder-and-guns 5. Stanford University. Detonation and Combustion. Stanford University. Accessed September 4, 2025. https://cs.stanford.edu/people/eroberts/courses/ww2/projects/firebombing/detonation-and-combustion.htm 6. Britannica. Ammunition | Bullets, Shells & Cartridges. Britannica. 2025. Accessed September 25, 2025. https://www.britannica.com/technology/ammunition 7. Beyer G. How Did Gunpowder Change Warfare? TheCollector. 2025. Accessed October 4, 2025. https://www.thecollector.com/how-did-gunpowder-change-warfare/ 8. ICAN. History of Nuclear Weapons. ICAN. Accessed October 4, 2025. https://www.icanw.org/nuclear_weapons_history Previous article Next article Entwined back to

< Back to Issue 9 Unravelling the Threads: From the Editors-in-Chief & Cover Illustrator by Ingrid Sefton, Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin & Anabelle Dewi Saraswati 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Anabelle Dewi Saraswati Edited by the Editor-in-Chiefs Innovation evolves, and perhaps what once made headlines becomes embodied in ourselves and in our universe. The science that we once saw is no longer visible, yet no less integral in the ways in which it governs our world. Like the strings of a puppet, scientific principles guide us and coordinate the patterns and movements which shape our daily lives. Yet equally, science encourages us to look behind the curtain in order to unravel the forces which pull on the strings of our universe. Following these rich threads of knowledge, so often taken for granted, this issue brings to the fore and celebrates the science that keeps our world running. An introspective chat with the brain, a journey along the production line that creates our much-loved daily cup of matcha, fundamental questions about how we seek and create knowledge: Entwined seeks to make explanations explicit and start conversations about the scientific mechanisms embedded in our lives. When we take the time to focus our gaze, encourage awe at the everyday and seek reflection over reaction – that’s when we start to disentangle the science that binds us; that which keeps us Entwined . Begin your immersion in the world of Entwined with Issue 9’s Cover Illustrator, Anabelle Dewi Saraswati , as she explains the vision and rationale behind her work. “I found myself drawn to the world of Art Nouveau for these cover illustrations, captivated by the way forms seem to grow into each other, sharing meaning and life, much like the theme of ‘Entwined’ itself. There is something magical about that moment in history, where art, architecture, and science all seemed to bleed into one another, each discipline borrowing and lending, rooted in the emphasis on the beauty of nature after the coldness created by the Industrial Revolution. That sense of crossover felt like the perfect encapsulation for this issue, derived from pictorial history. The way feminine figures and flowing hair seem to melt into vines and leaves, everything tangled together in a quiet conversation. The motion and sense of growth, but also its hidden mathematical precision required to produce such beautiful curving forms. Art Nouveau captured how the artificial and natural worlds are always weaving into each other, inseparable. I wanted to draw from that imagery in a way that acknowledges its history I return to my architectural roots in structure, composition and line with my approach in building these pieces. The signage piece is fully hand-drawn and deliberate – reflecting the craft and typographic precision of the era. The collage is a layering of textures and fragments, letting ideas overlap and bleed into each other, much like memories and histories do. A way to begin the issue visually to trace the growth of worlds as they intertwine. Paying homage to the harmony between the natural and the human-made, to reflect on how we are shaped by the places we inhabit, the histories we inherit, and the stories we choose to keep alive.” Previous article Next article Entwined back to

Issue 9: Entwined 28 October 2025 This issue takes a moment to revel in the science that surrounds us. Come walk the tangled paths less followed, who knows what you may come across! Editorial Unravelling the Threads: From the Editors-in-Chief & Cover Illustrator by Ingrid Sefton, Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin & Anabelle Dewi Saraswati A word from the Editors-in-Chief, and fascinating insights into this issue's cover. Knot theory Knot Theory and Its Applications. Why Knot? by Ryan Rud Untangle the knot theory with Ryan to reveal the role of this mathematical marvel in our everyday life. Hugging Entwined: A Hug Story by Elise Volpato Embrace the physiology, psychology and cultural complexities of hugs, as Elise opens us up to their undeniable benefits. Geological time periods Enter . . . the Anthropocene? by Rita Fortune Rita digs into questions of how and where we can draw a line in the sand, in attempts to disentangle a new geological time period. Cosmic matter The Cosmos in Our Palms: A Reflection of Our Cosmic Origins by Mishen De Silva Gain a new appreciation with Mishen of how the beauty and mystery of the cosmos is not just among us, but within us. Humans of UniMelb Rewilding Our Cities with Dr Kylie Soanes by Ciara Dahl Uncover life behind and between the concrete jungle, as Ciara talks all things urban ecology with Dr Kylie Soanes. Brain connectome Conferring with Consciousness by Ingrid Sefton Me, myself and my brain - Ingrid traverses the neural paths that comprise the conscious experience. Journey of food The Life of Matcha by Kara Miwa-Dale Delicately grown, globally consumed: Kara evaluates the intersection of matcha's deep-rooted social importance with physical health and current trends. Gunpowder Ancient Asian Alchemy: Big Booms by Isaac Tian Aiming for immortality, landing at gunpowder? Isaac explores how a quest for life is fundamentally entangled in the alchemy of gunpowder. Classical biology Eyeballs, a Knife, and No Fear of God by Jess Walton Travel back in time with Jess to meet the early anatomists who helped pioneer the arduous and neverending human quest to seek answers from deep within ourselves. Literally speaking, that is. Axolotls Axolotl: The Little God of the Lake by Danny He Dive into the history, habitat, and hardhsips of your favourite frilly friends. Axolotls are so much more than a cute face, and time may be running out to save them. Camouflage Living Pixels by KJ Srivastava Uncovering the science behind camouflaging creatures that have no eyes makes this trick no less magical, as KJ reveals. Pacific Island futures Human-Cetacean Relations by Andrew Irvin Taking us to Tonga, Andrew tells a tale of a musician swimming between the worlds of communication, marine science and a future for Pacific Islands. Philosophy of science It’s Dangerous to Go Alone by Julia Lockerd Join Julia to debate the importance of epistemic and social relationships in the development of modern science. Perceptions of time Time Perception – The Chaos Binding Your World Together by Furqan Mohsin Spend a moment with Furqan considering how our perception of time strings us together, yet fundamentally pulls us apart.

Issue 8: Enigma 3 June 2025 This issue unspools the long-hidden threads in science. Come make sense of the puzzles and mysteries with us! Or perhaps, leave just as addled. Editorial Cracking the Code: A Word from the Editors-in-Chief by Ingrid Sefton & Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin A word from our Editors-in-Chief. Facial recognition Friend or Foe?: The Mechanisms Behind Facial Recognition by Mishen De Silva What's in a face? Mishen walks us through the ingenious ways our brains make meaning of the faces we see everyday. Human evolution The Lost Link: A Mystery in Evolution by Eymi Gladys Carcamo Rodriguez The theory of human evolution conjures textbook timelines of ape to man, but as Eymi explores, biology has never been that simple. Celebrity culture Glowing Limelight, Fashioned Stars by Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin Chronically online or not, society sure loves its stars. Aisyah investigates the messy sociology behind our relationships with celebrities in past decades. Astronomy Why Are We So Fascinated by Space? An Exploration of Human’s Fascination with Outer Space by Emily Cahill What make the night sky impossible to ignore? Emily uncovers how culture, commercialisation and science have fuelled our cosmic curiosity. Prehistoric predators Terror Birds: The Discovery of Prolific Hunters by Jason Chien Giant, flightless and carnivorous - Jason pieces together the rise of terror birds as fearsome apex predators Psychology A Psychological ‘Autopsy’ of Ludwig van Beethoven: Dissecting Genius and Madness by Kara Miwa-Dale Elusive and erudite, even beyond the grave. Dissect the inner world of Beethoven with Kara - when can we call genius, madness? Fungi Fungal Pac Man by Ksheerja Srivastava No matter how good of a gamer you are, Ksheerja proves why biosensensing fungi should be crowned as our worlds best Pac-Man player. Dreams In Your Dreams: Unpacking the Stories of Your Slumber by Ciara Dahl Where do our minds go every night? Ciara explores the mysterious science best theories behind dreaming Neurology Functional Neurological Disorder by Esme MacGillivray What if your nervous system just stopped working? Esme explains FND, and how it affects someone, beyond symptoms. Slime moulds Thinking Outside the Body: The Consciousness of Slime Moulds by Jessica Walton I think, therefore I am... a slime mould? Jess ponders whether this humble, single cell protist may exhibit conciousness without a brain. Psychadelics Life Story of a Drug by Elijah McEvoy From 'Bicycle Day' to brain receptors, Elijah takes us on a trip through the enigmatic origins, uses and psychadelic effects of LSD. Gut microbiome Microbic Mirror of The Self by Sarah Ibrahimi Microbes: Humanities greatest enemy or our best friend? Sarah explores the relationship between the gut microbiome and our health. Infantile amnesia Mental Time Travel: How Far Can I Remember? by Sophie Potvin Step inside the hippocampus, as Sophie illustrates the mechanisms of memory formation and our power to make the past come alive again. Consciousness A Headspace of One’s Own by Andrew Irvin At what point does a computer become conscious? Andrew delves into technology that blurs the line between artificial intelligence and the human brain. Prejudice in Science What Do Women Want? by Madeleine Kelly The question we should be asking is not what we know, but what we don't know about women.

By Gavin Choong < Back to Issue 3 Love and Aliens By Gavin Choong 10 September 2022 Edited by Khoa-Anh Tran and Niesha Baker Illustrated by Ravon Chew Next Neither Daniel Love nor Brendan Thoms were Australian citizens, but they were both recognised as First Nations Australians by law. Under legislation, “aliens” who commit crimes with a sentence of over a year may be removed from the country. (1) Due to their non-citizenship, the then Minister for Home Affairs Peter Dutton classified these men as aliens and tried to deport them after they were convicted of serious crimes. This attempt failed. The High Court of Australia ruled, in the hotly contested landmark decision of Love v Commonwealth, that Indigenous Australians could not be considered aliens under Australian law because of the “spiritual connection” they hold with the lands and waters of the country we live in. (1) Effectively, this barred the deportation of Love and Thoms but also sent astronomical ripples through the fabric of our nation’s legal framework. This year, major challenges to the decision made in Love v Commonwealth have arisen. Of the arguments put forward, some protest the judicial activism of the judges – that is, them going above and beyond written law to produce a fairer ruling. For example, many contend the term spiritual connection bears no actual legal meaning. However, with a history dating back upwards of seventy-thousand years, two hundred and fifty languages and eight hundred dialects, complex systems of governance, deeply vested religious and spiritual beliefs, and a profound understanding of land, it would be ignorant to argue this rich culture should simply be disregarded in the face of the law. This article adopts a scientific lens and delves into an empirical basis for the spiritual connection Aboriginal Australians share with country, traversing from Dreamtime to spacetime and beyond. THE DREAMING: FROM NOTHING, EVERYTHING From nothing came everything. Nearly fourteen billion years ago, a zero-volume singularity held, tightly, all the energy, space, and time from our current universe. In the moment of creation, temperature and average energies were so extreme all four fundamental forces which shape the universe, as we know it, acted as one. Cosmological inflation followed, allowing for exponential expansion and rapid cooling. Within a picosecond, the four fundamental forces of nature – gravity, electromagnetism, weak interactions, and strong interactions – emerged independently. These forces interacted with matter, resulting in the formation of elementary particles now coined quarks, hadrons, and leptons. For twenty more minutes, elementary particles coupled to form subatomic particles (protons, neutrons) which in turn underwent nuclear fusion to create simple early atoms such as hydrogen and helium. From nothing, came everything. In an eternal present, where there had once been flat and barren ground, Ancestral and Creator spirits emerged from land, sea, and sky to roam the Earth. As they moved, man and nature – mountains, animals, plants, and rivers – were birthed into existence. Once these spirits had finished, instead of disappearing, they transformed into the world they had created, existing in sacred sites such as the night sky, monolithic rocks, and ancient trees. The Dreaming is a First Nations peoples’ understanding of the world and its creation. Importantly, it is an event which cannot be fixed in time – “it was, and is, everywhen,” continuing even today. Countless retellings have caused Dreamtime tales to diverge slightly, leading communities of Aboriginal Australians to identify with different variations of similar stories. (2) These fables refer to natural worldly features and sacred sites, whilst also incorporating favourable values such as patience, humility, and compassion. An example is the tale of the Karatgurk, told by the Wurundjeri people of the Kulin nation, about seven sisters representing what we now consider as the Pleiades star constellation. (3) The Karatgurk These seven sisters once lived by the Yarra River, where Melbourne now stands. They alone possessed the secret of fire, carrying live coals at the end of their digging sticks. (Crow ("trickster, cultural hero, and [another] ancestral being") called the sisters over claiming he had discovered tasty ant larvae. (3) The women began scouring, only to find viscious snakes underneath the dirt which they beat using their digging sticks. As they did so, the live coals flew off and were stolen by Crow who brought fire to mankind. The Karatgurk sisters were swept into the sky, with their glowing fire sticks forming the Pleiades star cluster. In theory, the extreme physical reactions occurring minutes after the Big Bang, paired with hyper-rapid cosmic inflation, should have resulted in a completely homogeneous universe with an even distribution of all existing matter and energy. Cosmological perturbation theory explains, however, that micro-fluctuations in material properties create gravitational wells resulting in the random grouping of matter. These aggregations formed the first stars, quasars, galaxies, and clusters throughout the next billion years. It took, however, another ten billion years for the solar system to form. Similar to Saturn’s planetary rings, the early Sun had its own rotating, circumstellar disc composed of dust, gas, and debris. According to the nebular hypothesis, over millions of years, enough particulates coagulated within the Sun’s spinning disc to form small, primordial planets. Early Earth was a hellish fire-scape as a result of constant meteoric bombardment and extreme volcanic activity. The occasional icy asteroids which collided with Earth deposited large amounts of water, vaporising upon contact – as our planet began to cool, these gaseous deposits condensed into oceans, and molten rock solidified into land mass. In the blink of an eye, early traces of modern humans fluttered into existence at the African Somali Peninsula. They were a nomadic people, travelling westwards and then north through modern day Egypt and into the Middle East. Ancestral Indigenous Australians were amongst the first humans to migrate out of Africa some 62,000 to 75,000 years ago. While other groups travelled in different directions filling up Asia, Europe and the Americas, ancestral Indigenous Australians took advantage of drastically lower sea levels during that time to travel south, as, back then, mainland Australia, Tasmania, and Papua New Guinea formed a single land mass (Sahul) while South-East Asia formed another (Sunda). In spite of this, the wanderers still had to possess the requisite sea-faring skills to traverse almost ninety kilometres of ocean. When the last ice age ended 10,000 years ago, rising waters from melting ice caps covered many of the terrestrial bridges early humans had once journeyed over. This severing allowed Indigenous Australians to foster culture and tradition in their very own passage of time, uninterrupted and independent until a British fleet of eleven ships approached Botany Bay thousands of years later. Significant parts of Australia’s coast were also submerged due to ice age flooding. As coastal Indigenous Australians observed this phenomenon, they recognised its significance through their tales. The Gimuy Walubara Yidinji, traditional custodians of Cairns and the surrounding district, are one of the many groups which reference coastal flooding in their geomythology. Gunya and the Sacred Fish Gunyah, who had lived on Fitzroy Island, went out to hunt for fish one day. Spotting a glimmer in the water, he plunged a spear towards it only to find he had attacked the sacred black stingray. The stingray beat its wing-like fins, causing a great, unending storm. Gunyah fled from the rapidly rising sea and managed to find refuge in a clan living on the cliffs of Cairns. Together, they heated huge rocks in a fire and threw them far into the sea. The pacific was once again pacified, and the Great Barrier Reef created. Isaac Newton proposed, in Principia Mathematica, that the strength of the force of gravity between two celestial bodies would be proportional to both of their masses. At the beginning of the twentieth century, Albert Einstein refined this concept with the theories of Special and General Relativity. His mathematical models suggested time and space were woven into a four-dimensional canvas of spacetime, and the presence of massive objects such as black holes and stars created gravitational wells which distorted spacetime. Within these distortions, bodies closer to large masses would conceive time and space differently than those further away. This unique phenomenon, for example, means astronauts living onboard the International Space Station age fractionally slower relative to us grounded on Earth. Einstein was also able to find that as the velocity of any given body increased to that near the speed of light, it would gain an almost-infinite mass and experience a drastically slowed perception of time relative to their surroundings. These once inconceivable findings had monumental implications in the sphere of theoretical physics, with two examples below. (4, 5) Dark Matter ‘Visible’, baryonic matter humanity is familiar with makes up less than a fifth of the known universe, with a hypothetical ‘dark’, non-baryonic matter comprising the rest. Dark matter lies between and within galaxies, driving baryonic matter to aggregate, forming stars and galaxies. As it cannot be detected using electromagnetic radiation, gravitational lensing provides the strongest proof of its existence. Gravitational lensing occurs when there is an interfering body between us, here on Earth, and a given target. As per Einstein’s relativity, the interfering body has mass which will bend space and therefore distort the image we receive of the target. There exists a mathematically proportional relationship between mass and distortion – the more massive an interfering body, the greater the distortion. Scientists performed calculations but found that the levels of distortion they observed correlated to masses much greater than that of the interfering body. Dark matter accounts for this invisible and undetectable missing mass. String Theory At its core, quantum physics deals with interactions at the atomic and subatomic level. This body of work has borne unusual findings – including that light can act both as a particle and wave, that we may never identify a particle’s position and momentum simultaneously with complete certainty, and that the physical properties of distant entangled particles can fundamentally be linked. On paper, however, there has been great difficulty reconciling quantum physics with relativity theory, as the former deals with interactions which occur in “jumps…with probabilistic rather than definite outcomes”. (4) String theory, however, seeks to settle this tension by proposing the universe is comprised of one-dimensional vibrating strings interacting with one another. This theoretical framework has already bore fascinating fruit – it has been hypothesised that the universe has ten dimensions (nine spatial, one temporal) and during the Big Bang, a “symmetry-breaking event” caused three spatial dimensions to break from the others resulting in an observable three-dimensional universe. (5) On 21 September 1922, astronomers in Goondiwindi, Queensland, used a total solar eclipse to successfully test and prove Einstein’s theory of relativity. Aboriginal Australians present believed they were “trying to catch the Sun in a net”. (6) Western academics were far from the only ones who sought to explain natural phenomena. From the ancient Egyptians to Japanese Shintoists and South American Incas, many civilisations of the past revered the Sun and Moon, having been enthralled by the two celestial bodies. Indigenous Australians were one such people, wanting to understand why the sun rose and set, how moon cycles and ocean tides were related, and what exactly were the rare solar and lunar eclipses. Such occurrences had a mystical property about them, reflected in a rich collection of traditional tales which looked to illuminate these astronomical observations. (7) Walu the Sun-woman Told by the Yolngu people of Arnhem Land, Walu lights a small fire every morning to mark that dawn has arrived. She paints herself with red and yellow pigment with some spilling onto the clouds to create sunrise. Walu lights a bark torch and carries it across the sky from East to West, creating daylight. Upon completing her journey, she extinguishes her torch and travels underground back to the morning camp in the East. While doing so, she provides warmth and fertility to the very Earth surrounding her. Ngalindi the Moon-man Told by the Yolngu people of Arnhem Land, “water fill[s] Ngalindi as he rises, becoming full at high tide”. (6) When full, he becomes gluttonous and decides to kill his sons because they refuse to share their food with him. His wives seek vengeance by chopping off his limbs, causing water to drain out. This is reflected by a waning moon and ebb in the tides. Eventually, Ngalindi dies for three days (New Moon) before rising once again (waxing Moon). Bahloo and Yhi Told often by the Kamilaroi people of northern New South Wales, Yhi (Sun-woman) falls in love with Bahloo (Moon-man) and tries to pursue him across the sky. However, he has no interest in Yhi and refuses her advances. Sometimes, Yhi eclipses Bahloo and tries to kill him in a fit of jealously, but the spirits holding up the sky intervene allowing Bahloo to escape. In 1788, British colonists prescribed the fictitious doctrine of terra nullius which treated land occupied by Indigenous peoples as “territory belonging to no-one,” susceptible to colonisation. (8) It is apparent, however, that Indigenous Australians did and still do belong, having a greater, more unique, and nuanced relationship to our lands and waters than we can ever hope to have. This article shows that as detailed and prescriptive our modern scientific understanding is, First Nations peoples will have an equally if not richer perspective, woven through their stories, languages, and practices. To argue that the spiritual connection Indigenous people share with country is not recognised by law would be wilfully making the same mistake our early settlers made two and a half centuries ago. It would be allowing the continuance of intergenerational trauma and suppression. For those reasons, despite the assertive legal challenges being brought against Love v Commonwealth, its judgement must be upheld. References 1. Love v Commonwealth; Thoms v Commonwealth [2020] HCA 3. 2. Stanner WE. The Dreaming & other essays. Melbourne (AU): Black Inc.; 2011. 3. Creation Stories [Internet]. Victoria: Taungurung Lands & Waters Council [cited 2022 Apr. Available from: https://taungurung.com.au/creation-stories/ 4. Powell CS. Relativity versus quantum mechanics: the battle of the universe [Internet]. The Guardian; 2015 Nov 4 [cited 2022 Apr 17]. Available from: https://www.theguardian.com/news/2015/nov/04/relativity-quantum-mechanics-universe-physicists 5. Wolchover N. String theorists simulate the Big Bang [Internet]. Live Science; 2011 Dec 14 [cited 2022 Apr 17]. Available from: https://www.livescience.com/17454-string-theory-big-bang.html 6. Hamacher DW. On the astronomical knowledge and traditions of Aboriginal Australians [thesis submitted for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy]. [Sydney]: Macquarie University; 2011. 139 p. 7. Mathematics, moon phases, and tides [Internet]. Melbourne: University of Melbourne [cited 2022 Apr 17]. Available from: https://indigenousknowledge.unimelb.edu.au/curriculum/resources/mathematics,-moon-phases,-and-tides 8. Mabo v Queensland (No 2) [1992] HCA 23. Previous article Next article alien back to

< Back to Issue 6 Proprioception: Our Invisible Sixth Sense by Ingrid Sefton 28 May 2024 Edited by Subham Priya Illustrated by Jessica Walton What might constitute a sixth sense? Perhaps, it involves possessing a second sight or superhuman abilities. A classic example of this would be Spider-Man and his ‘spidey-sense’ — an instinctual warning system that alerts him to imminent danger. Enhancing his reflexes and agility, his sixth sense enables him to evade threats with precision. Turns out Spider-Man is not the sole bearer of a ‘spidey sense’. While we may not be scaling walls anytime soon, we too possess a special sense that unconsciously guides our movements. It might sound peculiar, but knowing your arm is indeed your own arm involves a unique form of sensory processing. Considered by neuroscientists as our own ‘sixth sense’, proprioception is our own way of helping the brain to understand the position of our body and limbs in space (Sherrington, 1907). Consider a typical scenario: your first sip of coffee in the morning. Eyes shut, you savour your latte before the day begins. Such a simple act, yet impossible without proprioception. With closed eyes, how do you know where your mouth is? How do you gauge the position of your arm to ensure the coffee cup reaches your lips? Proprioception seamlessly transmits information about muscle tension, joint position, and force to the brain, making drinking your coffee an automatic and coordinated process. Proprioception operates on principles akin to those guiding our other senses. Specialised cells, known as receptors, are found in each sensory organ and receive information from the environment. Receptors in your eyes capture visual information, while those in your ears detect auditory stimuli. This sensory information is transduced through signals to the central nervous system – through the spinal cord and to the brain – where it’s integrated and processed to determine an appropriate response. Analogously, proprioceptive information is mediated by proprioceptors, a unique type of receptors located in your muscles and joints (Proske & Gandevia, 2012). Unlike our other senses, proprioception does not rely on input from the external environment. Rather, it provides feedback to the brain about what the body itself is doing. Changes in muscle tension and the position of our joints are relayed to the brain, ensuring awareness of the body’s whereabouts at any given moment. One implication of this ‘internal’ feedback loop is that proprioception never turns ‘off’. When you cover your ears, you experience silence. If you hold your nose, you can block out the smell. Yet even when still, in motion, or unconscious, your brain continuously receives proprioceptive input. Imagine this in the context of going to bed each night. What exactly prevents you from falling out of bed, once asleep? While most senses are subdued when sleeping, proprioception remains active, informing the brain about the slightest changes in the position of the body. This ensures a perpetual awareness of our body in space – and luckily for us, stops us from rolling out of bed (Proske & Gandevia, 2012). It can be hard to appreciate what our proprioceptive system allows us to do, given its unconscious nature and integration with our other senses. Rare neurological disorders affecting proprioception highlight just how critical this sense is in our daily lives. The case of Ian Waterman – now known as ‘the man who lost his body – offers profound insights into the significance of proprioception (McNeill et al., 2009). Following a fever in 1971 at age 19, a subsequent auto-immune reaction destroyed all his sensory neurons from the neck down–a condition termed ‘neuronopathy’. Despite retaining his intact motor functions, Waterman lost all proprioceptive abilities, rendering him unaware of his body's position in space. Although the viral infection’s initial effect was that of immobility, this loss was not due to paralysis. Rather, it was Waterman’s lack of control over his body that inhibited his ability to move. Sitting, walking, and manipulating objects became impossible tasks as a result of the absence of any proprioceptive feedback from the body. Remarkably, Waterman has been able to teach himself precise strategies to walk and function with a degree of normality (Swain, 2017). Yet, all movement requires concerted planning and relies entirely on vision to compensate for the unconscious proprioceptive processing. In the absence of any light, Waterman is unable to see his limbs, thus restricting his ability to move. An understanding of the molecular mechanisms underlying proprioception remains somewhat of a mystery compared to that of our other senses. However, recent genetic advancements are paving the way for the development of novel therapies aimed at neurological and musculoskeletal disorders (Woo et al., 2015). A study involving two young patients with unique neurological disorders affecting their body awareness revealed a mutation in their PIEZO2 gene (Chesler et al., 2016). Both individuals experienced significant challenges with balance and movement, coupled with progressive scoliosis and deformities in the hips, fingers, and feet. The PIEZO2 gene typically encodes a type of mechanosensitive protein in cells, r esponsible for generating electrical signals in response to alterations in cell shape (Coste et al., 2010). Mutations to this gene prevent signal generation and render the neurons incapable of detecting limb or body movement. These findings firmly establish PIEZO2 as a critical gene for facilitating proprioception in humans, a sense that is crucial for bodily awareness. PIEZO2 mutations have also been implicated in genetic musculoskeletal disorders (Coste et al., 2010). Joint problems and scoliosis experienced by the patients in a study suggest that proprioception may also indirectly guide skeletal development. These insights into the role of the PIEZO2 gene in proprioception and musculoskeletal development open up promising avenues for understanding and treating neurological and musculoskeletal disorders. It’s more than fitting to regard proprioception as our sixth sense. The capacity of our nervous system to seamlessly process vast amounts of information from our joints and muscles, all without any conscious effort on our part, is truly remarkable. So, the next time you have that eyes-shut first sip of coffee, give yourself a pat on the back. With your sixth sense at play, you’re clearly a superhero! References Chesler, A. T., Szczot, M., Bharucha-Goebel, D., Čeko, M., Donkervoort, S., Laubacher, C., Hayes, L. H., Alter, K., Zampieri, C., Stanley, C., Innes, A. M., Mah, J. K., Grosmann, C. M., Bradley, N., Nguyen, D., Foley, A. R., Le Pichon, C. E., & Bönnemann, C. G. (2016). The Role of PIEZO2 in Human Mechanosensation. N Engl J Med , 375 (14), 1355-1364. https://doi.org/10.1056/NEJMoa1602812 Coste, B., Mathur, J., Schmidt, M., Earley, T. J., Ranade, S., Petrus, M. J., Dubin, A. E., & Patapoutian, A. (2010). Piezo1 and Piezo2 are essential components of distinct mechanically activated cation channels. Science , 330 (6000), 55-60. McNeill, D., Quaeghebeur, L., & Duncan, S. (2009). IW - “The Man Who Lost His Body”. In (pp. 519-543). https://doi.org/10.1007/978-90-481-2646-0_27 Proske, U., & Gandevia, S. C. (2012). The Proprioceptive Senses: Their Roles in Signaling Body Shape, Body Position and Movement, and Muscle Force. Physiological Reviews , 92 (4), 1651-1697. https://doi.org/10.1152/physrev.00048.2011 Sherrington, C. S. (1907). On the proprio-ceptive system, especially in its reflex aspect. Brain , 29 (4), 467-482. Swain, K. (2017). The phenomenology of touch. The Lancet Neurology , 16 (2), 114. https://doi.org/10.1016/S1474-4422(16)30389-1 Woo, S. H., Lukacs, V., de Nooij, J. C., Zaytseva, D., Criddle, C. R., Francisco, A., Jessell, T. M., Wilkinson, K. A., & Patapoutian, A. (2015). Piezo2 is the principal mechanotransduction channel for proprioception. Nature Neuroscience , 18 (12), 1756-1762. https://doi.org/10.1038/nn.4162 Previous article Next article Elemental back to

By Yvette Marris Behind the Mask By Yvette Marris 23 March 2022 Edited by Tanya Kovacevic Illustrated by Quynh Anh Nguyen It would be hard to write about A Year in Science without the obligatory COVID article. We hear constantly about the stresses of being a frontline healthcare worker, the signs and symptoms of long COVID, and the endless vaccine scepticism. I’d like to tell a slightly different story. During the COVID pandemic, other infections didn’t just take a holiday and cancers didn’t just stop growing. More ordinary illness and injury continued behind the headlines. As a consequence of the pandemic, healthcare workers are additionally dealing with an abundance of patients, delays with diagnosis and some very complex medical cases. Megan Gifford worked in a hospital that didn’t primarily treat COVID-19 patients, but still had to adapt to the constant changing of rules, regulations and policies put in place to protect staff and patients alike from the virus. Now at the Peter MacCallum Cancer Centre in Melbourne, Gifford spoke to me about her experiences working at Townsville University Hospital in the only bone marrow transplant ward servicing a large population across regional Queensland. Gifford experienced the stress and burden of trying, not only to assuage their own anxieties but to also provide current, up-to-date information to patients and deliver high quality care. There were the frustrations of unavoidable logistical problems like border closures, stay-at-home orders, preventing access to crucial materials and patient transport. There was heartbreak of watching transplant patients deteriorate mentally, as their will to persist with treatments began to fade. Pathologists and haematologists also found themselves facing an unprecedented logistical nightmare, including re-allocation of diagnostic equipment and protective equipment for mass COVID testing. Access to essential biomedical material like blood and plasma became increasingly difficult and many suffered as a result. While pandemic consequences like long COVID and the increased prevalence of affective disorders, like depression and anxiety, are well documented in media and academia, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) hasn’t gotten the same amount of attention. Statistics and anecdotes alike are staggering, both for patients and healthcare workers. With stressors like an unprecedented number of critically ill patients, capricious disease progressions, high mortality, and ever-changing treatment guidelines the world was sympathetic to healthcare workers’ struggles (3). Yet with the lockdowns and restrictions over, it would be naïve to think everything would just return to normal. It was found that 29% of healthcare workers had clinical or sub-clinical symptoms of PTSD (1), and that this figure was significantly higher for healthcare workers directly treating COVID patients (2). Gifford recalled anecdotes of “patients suffering anxiety attacks when they smell the hospital alcohol rub and hear the familiar beeping of the various equipment”. Even beyond the mental health scope, logistical issues like delayed learning for medical students or the backlog of elective procedures is still placing an enormous burden on healthcare workers, despite the immediate threat seemingly behind us. But to say that everything remains in shambles would frankly be insulting to healthcare workers, who are working tirelessly to deliver good quality healthcare. The speed at which pathologists and scientists have adapted to limited resources and supply shortages, and the way in which doctors and frontline workers have shifted their style of care and developed new problem-solving skills, are exceptional and should not go unnoticed or unappreciated. Importantly, the COVID-19 pandemic and its ripple effects have brought centre stage the consequences of under-resourced healthcare centres in a way that affected all people, irrespective of geography, class or reputation. The reality is that the conditions in which many metropolitan hospitals found themselves in, with never enough staff or supplies, is a condition that some hospitals experienced long before COVID-19 ever appeared, particularly in rural settings. To say that every dark cloud has a silver lining would be horribly cliché, but in this case, there may be truth to it. This edition of A Year in Science is a chance for us to reflect on all that COVID-19 has called attention to and decide to do something about it. References Carmassi C, Foghi C, Dell’Oste V, Cordone A, Bertelloni CA, Bui E, et al. PTSD symptoms in healthcare workers facing the three coronavirus outbreaks: What can we expect after the COVID-19 pandemic. Psychiatry Research. 2020 Oct;113312. Janiri D, Carfì A, Kotzalidis GD, Bernabei R, Landi F, Sani G. Posttraumatic Stress Disorder in Patients After Severe COVID-19 Infection. JAMA Psychiatry. 2021 Feb; Johnson SU, Ebrahimi OV, Hoffart A. PTSD symptoms among health workers and public service providers during the COVID-19 outbreak. Vickers K, editor. PLOS ONE. 2020 Oct 21;15(10):e0241032. Previous article Next article

< Back to Issue 7 Neuralink: Mind Over Matter? by Kara Miwa-Dale 22 October 2024 edited by Weilena Liu illustrated by Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin What if I told you that you could control a computer mouse with just your thoughts? It sounds like something straight out of a sci-fi movie, doesn’t it? But this isn’t fiction… Welcome to the brain-computer interface, a device which is able to record and interpret neural activity in the brain, enabling direct communication between your mind and a computer. Tech billionaire Elon Musk founded ‘Neuralink’, a company developing coin-sized brain-chips that can be surgically inserted into the brain using a robot. Neuralink made headlines a few months ago by successfully implanting their brain-chip, dubbed ‘Telepathy’, into their first trial patient, Noland Arbaugh. While there were a few technical glitches, it seems to be working relatively well so far. Noland has been able to regain some of the autonomy that he lost following a devastating spinal cord injury. He is even able to play video games with a superhuman-like reaction speed, thanks to the more direct communication route between the Neuralink implant and his computer. But it doesn’t stop there; Elon Musk’s ultimate vision is to have millions of people using Neuralink in the next 10 years, not only to restore autonomy to those with serious injuries, but to push the boundaries of what the human brain is capable of. He thinks that Neuralink will allow us to compete with AI and vastly improve our speed and efficiency of communication, which is ‘pitifully slow’ in comparison to AI. Neuralink implants may seem like an incredible leap in scientific technology, but what will happen if they become normalised in our society? Let’s imagine for a moment … Jade, April 7th 2044 Shoving my jacket into my bag, I dart out of the hospital and pull onto the main road in my Tesla. As I speed past the intersection, I see a giant advertisement plastered on a sleek building: ‘Neuralink: Seamless Thoughts, Limitless Possibilities’. When I signed up to get a Neuralink implant, all I’d thought about were the infinite possibilities of how it would change my life – not what could go wrong. I wish I could say that I was brainwashed into getting a Neuralink, or that I had no choice in the matter. But the truth? I got an implant so that I could be ‘ahead of the crowd’ and because I was so frustrated at feeling inadequate compared to the other doctors at my hospital. When I graduated medical school, at the top of my class, people told me that I would do ‘great things’ and ‘change the world’. I followed the standard path, landing my first job and climbing the ranks one caffeine-fuelled shift at a time. I loved my job. Every time I saved a life, it felt like all my effort had paid off. Then Neuralink happened. I still remember the day Dr Maxwell - a doctor I worked with - proudly announced that he’d ‘bitten the bullet’ and gotten the implant. Over the coming weeks, we watched in awe: his diagnoses were quicker and more accurate than any human could imagine, and he went home as energetic as he’d arrived. Now, the extra hours I spent figuring out tricky cases were no longer a representation of my work ethic, but a symptom of my inadequacy compared to the Neuralink-enhanced doctors. One by one, my colleagues signed up for the implant. I hated the thought of having something foreign nestled in my brain, recording my brain’s neurons every second of the day. I told myself I wouldn’t let peer pressure get to me. But, as I watched those around me get promoted while I continued to work endless days, the frustration started to build. One afternoon, the department head came into my office to tell me that they were reconsidering the renewal of my contract. I wasn’t ‘keeping up’ with my Neuralink-enhanced colleagues. “We respect your personal decision, of course,” she said with hollow politeness. I wasn’t keen on being pressured into it, but at the same time, I genuinely believed that the implant would improve my life. When I told my friends and family about getting an implant, they were concerned. They tried to list all the things that could go wrong, but I came up with enough reasons to convince myself that it was the right decision. Once they saw how incredible the Neuralink device was, I thought, they would want one too. *** I’m jolted back to reality as the car veers slightly left, and I manually yank the wheel to correct it. Perhaps my implant glitched for a second… *** Everything changed after I had my Neuralink implanted. I was the only person in my family who had one, although a couple of friends did. At first, I felt invincible. The phenomenal speed with which I was able to come up with previously challenging diagnoses was thrilling. I was able to process enormous amounts of data and draw connections that I had never been able to before. It was addictive to feel that I was working at my full potential, using my newfound ‘superpower’ to save more lives than ever. About a month in, my thoughts began racing uncontrollably, until I felt like I was drowning in a flood of information. Sometimes, the input was so overwhelming that my head pounded and I struggled to breathe. My thoughts didn’t even feel like mine anymore. Family and friends started to grow more and more distant from me. This device was stuck inside my brain like superglue, and sometimes I just wanted to dig it right out of my skull. When I asked the doctor about removing it, he looked at me and smirked, “Why on earth would you want to get rid of such a game-changing device? Neuralink’s the new normal, honey. Get used to it.” *** A honk startles me as a car zooms past, nearly colliding with mine. I turn into a quieter street to regain my composure. But then – suddenly – thoughts of accelerating the car bombard my mind – so loud that I can barely hear myself think. The speedometer rises from 60 to 80 to 100 km an hour. I desperately try to disconnect my Neuralink from the car, to manually override the system – anything that will slow the car down. I start pushing random buttons hoping that I will get some kind of response. A red light flashes on my dashboard. ERROR. SIGNAL DISRUPTED BY UNKNOWN USER. I look up and meet the panicked eyes of a woman pushing a man in a wheelchair. Noah, April 7th 2044 The sun makes its final, glorious descent below the horizon, painting a beautiful array of pinks and oranges across the sky. I take a deep breath as Sophia, my support worker, pushes me along the road. We’re on our way to the grocery store, just in time for the end of day specials, which are all I can afford right now. Since my accident, I’ve tried my best to appreciate what I have, but it isn’t easy. Some days, I’m filled with rage as I struggle to complete daily tasks that I did on autopilot before my accident – back when I wasn’t confined to a wheelchair. It’s been hard to come to terms with this new body that I’m stuck with, and all the ways it seems to betray me. I miss the simple things – going to the grocery store by myself or playing board games with friends. But most of all, I miss working as an architect. I loved seeing my clients’ faces light up as they imagined the memories they would make in the new homes I had designed. This sense of satisfaction was taken from me the moment I was paralysed from the neck down. It’s why I’m so desperate to get a Neuralink implant. I would get one right this second if they weren’t so expensive. The Neuralink device isn’t covered by my insurance because the government claims that it wouldn’t be ‘cost effective’. While it won’t restore movement in my arms and legs, this implant would give me some precious freedom back. Maybe if I keep saving and take out a loan, I’ll have just enough to cover it and get my life back … *** “God, these Tesla drivers think they own the road!” I chuckle at Sophia, as a Tesla races towards the crossing in this 40km zone. As we begin to cross the road, I realise that the Tesla is showing no signs of slowing down. The car swerves violently, hurtling towards us without mercy. Sophia’s face pales as she frantically tries to push me out of the road. I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for impact. Bibliography: Cernat, M., Borțun, D., & Matei, C. (2022, April). Human-Computer Interaction: Ethical Perspectives on Technology and Its (Mis) uses. In International Conference on Enterprise Information Systems (pp. 338-349). Cham: Springer Nature Switzerland. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-39386-0_16 Fridman, Lex. (Host). (2024, August 3rd). Elon Musk: Neuralink and the Future of Humanity (No 438). [Audio podcast episode]. In Lex Fridman Podcast. https://lexfridman.com/elon-musk-and-neuralink-team/ Jawad, A. J. (2021). Engineering ethics of neuralink brain computer interfaces devices. Perspective , 4 (1). https://doi.org/10.23880/abca-16000160 Oravec, B. Neurotechnology, Ethical Privacy, and Information Technology. Knighted , 36. https://www.mga.edu/arts-letters/docs/knighted-journal/Issue-6.pdf#page=37 Youssef, N. O. A., Guia, V., Walczysko, F., Suriyasuphapong, S., & Moslemi, C. (2020). Ethical concerns and consequences of Neuralink. Natural Science. https://rucforsk.ruc.dk/ws/files/75503337/NIB3_Group1_Neuralink.pdf Previous article Next article apex back to

issue 3 : alien 10 September 2022 This issue is about exploring all things exotic, unfamiliar, unknown. Dive into the column and feature articles by our talented writers below! columns The Body, Et Cetera “Blink and you’ll miss it”: A Third Eyelid? By Rachel Ko This article unpacks the fascinating evidence for evolution reflected within our very own eyes, connecting us to our reptilian ancestors. Chatter Belly bugs: the aliens that live in our gut By Lily McCann In this issue we explore how microbes influence our health and emotions, and what this means for our concept of identity. Humans of UniMelb In conversation with Paul Beuchat By Renee Papaluca I caught up with Paul Beuchat to learn more about his research journey and his potentially ‘alien’ methods of teaching. Our Past, Present & Future Waving Hello to the Aliens By Reah Shetty Our interaction with the idea of aliens has evolved. The question is how far have we come and how far will we go? Science Books Believing in aliens... A science? By Juulke Castelijn I wasn’t expecting to be persuaded of the existence of life beyond the confines of Earth. Ethics in Science The Ethics of Space Travel By Monica Blasioli Being the beginning of research into the impacts of space travel, can turning space travel into monopoly truly be justified? Wonders of the Landscape Space exploration in Antartica By Ashleigh Hallinan What makes Antarctica special when it comes to meteorite discovery? Science in the Age of Politics Hope, Humanity and the Starry Night Sky By Andrew Lim This second feature in the ‘Science in the Age of Politics’ series considers the importance of the stars, and scientific diplomacy, amidst rising global tensions. features Death of the Scientific Hero By Clarisse Sawyer How do we teach scientific history without promoting historical bigots? Mighty Microscopic Warriors! By Gaurika Loomba Equipped with a plethora of signalling chemicals and cells with different features, our heroic immune system fights wars daily without us realising it. Love and Aliens By Gavin Choong The First Nations’ perspectives are profound, and must be recognised by the Australian legal system. Existing in an Alien World: Navigating Neurodiversity in a System Built for Someone Else By Hazel Theophania Autism isn’t some inscrutable mystery - we’re people, and learning how we operate will help dismantle the barriers built up around us. AI and a notion of 'artificial humanity' By Mia Horsfall We still consider AI as other (or 'alien') to us, but ideal utility would be gained from toeing the precarious line between humanity and machine.

< Back to Issue 8 Life Story of a Drug by Elijah McEvoy 3 June 2025 Edited by Weilena Liu Illustrated by Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin From the mythical visions of church goers who took mushrooms in the infamous ‘Good Friday Experiment’ to the extreme self-reflection of those ‘tripping’ off the traditional South American hallucinogenic tea Ayahuasca (1,2), humans have been painting the extraordinary narratives of psychedelics for thousands of years in thousands of settings. Put simply, psychedelics are a class of psychoactive drugs that can alter your thoughts and senses, inducing wild experiences not thought possible in your brain’s ground state (3). One of the most famous of these drugs is LSD. ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’ is said to have inspired entire Beatles albums and shown Steve Jobs “that there’s another side to the coin” of life (4,5). LSD is also a psychedelic that stands as an enigma in many regards. It is both naturally derived and synthetically created. It has been tested in psychological therapy and psychological warfare. Even the ‘trips’ experienced by its users entail both unexplainable hallucinations and scientifically proven phenomena. While being lesser understood, the stories of LSD’s enigmatic origins, uses and effects are just as interesting as those that come from its users. The Origins Lysergic Acid Diethylamide (LSD) or ‘acid’ for short is a semi-synthetic chemical compound with humble biological beginnings. LSD is derived from a class of alkaloid metabolite molecules that are naturally produced by the fungus commonly known as ergot. Ergot fungi are members of the parasitic genus Claviceps , which have been infecting staple crops and shaping society long before acid came to distort shapes in the eyes of its users (6). Epidemics of ergotism, a disease caused by these ergot alkaloids after ingesting contaminated crops, swept across Middle Age Europe and led to the deaths of tens of thousands of people (7). Despite credible arguments to the contrary, some historians have even suggested that the Salem Witch Trials may have been sparked by a form of this disease known as convulsive ergotism. Not only were the environmental conditions in 1691 Salem reported to be optimal for ergot growth in the town’s rye, but convulsive ergotism also induces distinct muscle contractions, paranoia and audiovisual hallucinations (8). These symptoms all would have given credit to the claims of bewitchment made by the young girls that instigated the accusations of witchcraft in the town. Aside from death and dark magic, this fungus has also been used as an effective therapeutic across several eras of history. It’s use as a medication for childbirth was recorded as early as 1100 BCE in China, with midwives using ergot or it’s alkaloids to reduce bleeding during birth, expedite delivery or induce an abortion (6,7). It wasn’t until modern pharmacology advanced in the 20th century that scientists began to chemically characterise these ergot alkaloids and use them as the basis to create potent drugs. The story of how LSD was first created and consumed is one that has been immortalised in history books and unofficial holidays. Dr Albert Hoffman, a Swiss biochemist working for the pharmaceutical company Sandoz, first synthesised LSD in 1938 as the 25th substance in a series of lysergic acid derivatives being evaluated by the company (9). Initial testing of this compound indicated it had no unique pharmacological uses beyond those of pre-existing ergot alkaloid derived drugs (9). However, Hoffman couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that LSD-25 had more to offer. After making another batch of the compound 5 years later, Hoffman’s suspicions grew stronger when he was forced to leave the lab early after entering a “dream-like state… [with] a kaleidoscope-like play of colours” (9). A few days later, in a moment that demonstrated both admirable scientific curiosity and blatant rejection of OH&S, Hoffman took a large dose of LSD himself and set in for a trip of a lifetime (9). Like all good scientists, he recorded his experience in a journal, writing at 3pm on 19 April 1943: “visual distortions, symptoms of paralysis, desire to laugh” (9). Hoffman’s notes for the day stopped there. The Uses April 19th has come to be celebrated as ‘Bicycle Day’, commemorating the seemingly endless and surreal bike ride home Hoffman undertook after this self-experimentation. However, a wacky trip was not the only thing that followed this discovery. After Hoffman distributed the drug to his superiors to try for themselves, LSD was sold on the market by Sandoz under the name Delysid. This drug was employed by psychiatrists throughout the 1950s as a treatment for alcoholism or simply ‘psychotherapy-in-a-pill’ for patients suffering psychological trauma (10,11). LSD not only garnered therapeutic interest from scientists but also more nefarious intrigue from the CIA. Seeking to get an upper hand in the department of mental warfare during the Cold War, the CIA bought up 40,000 doses of LSD from Sandoz and performed a variety of unethical experiments on unknowing prisoners, heroin addicts and even other CIA agents in an attempt to understand the drug’s potential for ‘mind control’ under the MKUltra project (12). Moving into the 60s, LSD’s use amongst budding leaders of the Hippie and Yippie movements gave the drug its countercultural status. Harvard Professor Timothy Leary, who was dismissed from his position due to experimenting (literally) with LSD, promoted the drug as an agent of revolution that allowed the youth of America to “turn on, tune in, drop out” (10) of repressive society. Due to its increasing association with these disruptive movements and eventual outlawing by the US government in 1966 (11), acid’s place in culture shifted out of labs and psychologist offices and into illicit recreational usage by experimental hippies and enlightened artists. The Trip Whether accompanied by an experienced monitor or listening to some soothing vinyl records yourself, the experience of taking LSD is predictably unpredictable. ‘Dropping acid’ is unique in that only micrograms of the drug are enough to elicit a palpable psychedelic experience (13), with most users diluting the dosage on tabs of blotting paper or sugar cubes (11). Following consumption, it takes as little as 1.5 hours for LSD to cross the blood-brain barrier, dilate the pupils and bring users to the peak intensity of the drug’s psychological effects (13). The bizarre experiences perceived by those ‘tripping’ on LSD is rooted in a now well-characterised receptor binding interaction in the brain. The nitrogen-based chemical groups of the LSD molecule first anchor themselves within the 5-HT2A serotonin receptors found in the synapses of neurons (14). While the serotonin neurotransmitter typically helps regulate brain activities like mood and memory, LSD binding instead causes the activation of distinct intracellular cascades within these brain cells (3). The importance of this interaction was demonstrated in experiments that proved blocking this receptor can cancel the acid trip all together (3). Recent studies that have further characterised the chemical structure of this interaction have also shown that 5-HT2A forms a lid-like structure that locks LSD into this receptor protein’s binding site and sets the user in for a long trip (14). From these individual cellular interactions, LSD ignites a burst of brain activity. Modern brain scanning technology has revealed that LSD first disrupts the capacity of the thalamus to filter and pass on sensory stimuli from the body to the cortex of the brain. Upon injection of LSD, patient’s brains demonstrated both an overflow of information running between the thalamus and posterior cingulate cortex and restriction of signals going to the temporal cortex (15). Not only does LSD modify the brain’s ability to sort out important stimuli from the outside world, but this small molecule has also been found to temporarily form new connections between different parts of the brain. Hoffman’s recount of how “every sound generated a vividly changing image” (9) on the first Bicycle Day can be explained by the increased connectivity of the brain’s visual cortex on LSD. This causes areas of the brain responsible for other senses or emotions to become involved in creating the images perceived in the user’s head, causing visual hallucinations and geometric distortion that have no basis in real stimuli coming from the eyes (16). In contrast, Hoffman’s feeling of being “outside [his] body” (9) likely came from decreased connectivity between the parahippocampus and retrosplenial cortex, two regions of the brain responsible for cognition. This severance has been correlated with the greater meaning that those tripping on LSD find in objects, events or music along with their characteristic ‘ego dissolution’ (16). This is a phenomenon where users no longer see the world through the lens of their own ‘self’ and instead feel an increased sense of unity with everything around them (17). Very Hippie ideas with a very scientific explanation. The Comedown and Beyond The float back down from the peak of an LSD trip takes up to 10 hours and leaves its users with a variety of stories and outcomes. Contrary to the fearmongering of parents and politicians, LSD does not leave holes in the brain, does not lead to addiction and has not directly led to the death of anyone as a result of overdosage (3). While the risk of a ‘bad trip’ and the feelings of severe anxiety, fear and despair that come with it may be traumatic, these are typically experienced when taking LSD in unsupportive environments without proper mental preparation (13). In fact, when LSD is taken in a manner closer to the controlled ritual practices surrounding psychedelics of old (3), acid is suggested to have long-lasting positive impacts on the user’s attitude and personality (13). It is these experiences that have rejuvenated the field of LSD research from its abrupt stop in the 60s. Modern investigations have picked up where these scientists left off and are evaluating the potential of utilising LSD-assisted therapy to alleviate anxiety and depression. Studies have focused particular attention on addressing these mental health conditions in those suffering from life-threatening illnesses like cancer (18). While some of these experiments lack the controls or data to make strong generalised conclusions, several studies have demonstrated that patients supplied with LSD reported lasting decreases in anxiety surrounding their condition, greater responsiveness to their families and improved quality of life (3,18). All of this is not to promote LSD as a harmless wonder drug. While rare, LSD has been linked to Hallucinogen Persisting Perception Disorder, a condition in which people experience distressing ‘flashbacks’ to the effects and experiences of past psychedelic trips in a normal setting. Additionally, the changes in visual perception, emotion and thought while one is tripping can also cause users to make reckless decisions in dangerous situations (18). However, continuing to wage war against controlled experiments and supervised therapeutic trials with LSD only serves to limit the attempts of scientists in better understanding the balance between this drug’s risks and benefits. While our trip through the life of LSD may end here, there is still much to explore. The greater story of how we use it, how we view it and how it fits into our society is far from over. References Illing S. Vox. 2018 [cited 2024 Oct 23]. The brutal mirror: what the psychedelic drug ayahuasca showed me about my life. Available from: https://www.vox.com/first-person/2018/2/19/16739386/ayahuasca-retreat-psychedelic-hallucination-meditation Majić T, Schmidt TT, Gallinat J. Peak experiences and the afterglow phenomenon: When and how do therapeutic effects of hallucinogens depend on psychedelic experiences? J Psychopharmacol. 2015 Mar 1;29(3):241–53. Nichols DE. Psychedelics. Barker EL, editor. Pharmacol Rev. 2016 Apr 1;68(2):264–355. Gilmore M. Beatles’ Acid Test: How LSD Opened the Door to “Revolver” [Internet]. Rolling Stone. 2016 [cited 2024 Oct 23]. Available from: https://www.rollingstone.com/feature/beatles-acid-test-how-lsd-opened-the-door-to-revolver-251417/ Hsu H. The Lingering Legacy of Psychedelia. The New Yorker [Internet]. 2016 May 17 [cited 2024 Oct 23]; Available from: https://www.newyorker.com/books/page-turner/the-lingering-legacy-of-psychedelia Haarmann T, Rolke Y, Giesbert S, Tudzynski P. Ergot: from witchcraft to biotechnology. Molecular Plant Pathology. 2009 Jul;10(4):563–77. Schiff PLJ. Ergot and Its Alkaloids. American Journal of Pharmaceutical Education. 2006 Oct 15;70(5):98. Woolf A. Witchcraft or Mycotoxin? The Salem Witch Trials. Journal of Toxicology: Clinical Toxicology. 2000 Jan;38(4):457–60. Hofmann A. How LSD Originated. Journal of Psychedelic Drugs. 1979 Jan 1;11(1–2):53–60. Massari P. Harvard Griffin GSAS News. 2021 [cited 2024 Sep 28]. A Long, Strange Trip | The Harvard Kenneth C. Griffin Graduate School of Arts and Sciences. Available from: https://gsas.harvard.edu/news/long-strange-trip Stork CM, Henriksen B. Lysergic Acid Diethylamide. In: Wexler P, editor. Encyclopedia of Toxicology (Third Edition) [Internet]. Oxford: Academic Press; 2014 [cited 2024 Sep 28]. p. 120–2. Available from: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/B9780123864543007442 Stuff You Should Know. Did the CIA test LSD on unsuspecting Americans? - Stuff You Should Know [Internet]. [cited 2024 Aug 25]. (Stuff You Should Know). Available from: https://www.iheart.com/podcast/1119-stuff-you-should-know-26940277/episode/did-the-cia-test-lsd-on-29468397/ Passie T, Halpern JH, Stichtenoth DO, Emrich HM, Hintzen A. The Pharmacology of Lysergic Acid Diethylamide: A Review. CNS Neurosci Ther. 2008 Nov 11;14(4):295–314. Wacker D, Wang S, McCorvy JD, Betz RM, Venkatakrishnan AJ, Levit A, et al. Crystal structure of an LSD-bound human serotonin receptor. Cell. 2017 Jan 26;168(3):377. Sample I. Study shows how LSD interferes with brain’s signalling. The Guardian [Internet]. 2019 Jan 28 [cited 2024 Nov 10]; Available from: https://www.theguardian.com/science/2019/jan/28/study-shows-how-lsd-messes-with-brains-signalling Carhart-Harris RL, Muthukumaraswamy S, Roseman L, Kaelen M, Droog W, Murphy K, et al. Neural correlates of the LSD experience revealed by multimodal neuroimaging. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. 2016 Apr 26;113(17):4853–8. Sample I. LSD’s impact on the brain revealed in groundbreaking images. The Guardian [Internet]. 2016 Apr 11 [cited 2024 Nov 10]; Available from: https://www.theguardian.com/science/2016/apr/11/lsd-impact-brain-revealed-groundbreaking-images Liechti ME. Modern Clinical Research on LSD. Neuropsychopharmacol. 2017 Oct;42(11):2114–27. Previous article Next article Enigma back to

< Back to Issue 8 A Psychological ‘Autopsy’ of Ludwig van Beethoven: Dissecting Genius and Madness by Kara Miwa-Dale 3 June 2025 Edited by Steph Liang Illustrated by Ashlee Yeo ‘No great mind has ever existed without a touch of madness.’ – Aristotle Preface This is not an autopsy in the traditional sense. No scalpels or specimen jars will be involved. Instead, it is an autopsy of the mind – a retrospective exploration of the inner world of the great classical composer, Ludwig van Beethoven. Beethoven was considered a genius for revolutionising Western classical music with his emotionally powerful, structurally innovative, and highly complex compositions. He broke from convention, pioneered new musical forms, and continued to create masterpieces even after becoming completely deaf. Drawing upon insights from genetics, neuroscience, psychiatry, and anthropology, alongside the testimonies of Beethoven’s peers, we will piece together an understanding of how genius, creativity and mental affliction may be intertwined. Was Beethoven’s genius a product of madness, a triumph over it, or something different altogether? The Subject Name: Ludwig van Beethoven Occupation: Composer Age at Death: 56 Reason for Autopsy : To investigate the elusive connection between creativity, mental disorder, and the mysterious concept of genius I. The Witnesses: Testimonies from the Living To those that knew him, Beethoven was a paradox. One friend called him “half crazy”, noting violent outbursts, erratic moods and obsessive tendencies (1). Others saw him as “merry, mischievous, full of witticisms and jokes” (2). His talent and creative genius, however, were never in doubt. The poet Goethe, who met him in 1812, wrote: “Beethoven’s talent amazed me. However, he is an utterly untamed personality” (3). Based on Beethoven’s letters and accounts from friends, modern psychiatrists suspect that he may have lived with bipolar disorder (4). Yet, there is no way to be sure. Like the mind itself, Beethoven resists full understanding – a genius shaped by forces we may never fully comprehend. II. The Geneticist How can DNA offer insight into Beethoven’s genius? Often described as the blueprint of life, DNA offers fascinating insights into human potential – highlighting our predispositions, vulnerabilities, and even talents. However, it only tells part of the story. In 2023, an international team of scientists sequenced the DNA of five authenticated locks of Beethoven’s hair (5). Not long after, another group of researchers used this data to calculate a polygenic score estimating his genetic predisposition for beat synchronisation, a trait believed to be linked to musicality (6). Polygenic scores add up the small effects of many different genes to estimate someone’s likelihood of expressing a complex trait – like musical ability. Because these traits are influenced by many different genes working together, polygenic scores can be a helpful tool in exploring their biological basis. Curiously, Beethoven’s polygenic score for beat synchronisation was surprisingly low, implying that he wasn’t predisposed to have a strong sense of rhythm. Does this mean that Beethoven defied his own biology? Not necessarily. Polygenic scores have significant limitations. They don’t account for environmental influences – like the years of rigorous musical training that Beethoven underwent – or complex gene-gene and gene-environment interactions. Additionally, these scores are based on modern genetic datasets, so applying them to someone from the 18th century can reduce the reliability of the interpretation. That said, the story becomes even more fascinating when we consider research linking polygenic risk scores for psychiatric conditions – such as bipolar disorder and schizophrenia – to creativity. One large study found that people with a higher genetic risk for these conditions were overrepresented in artistic and creative jobs, although the association was small (7). This doesn’t mean that mental illness causes creativity, or that all creative people have a mental disorder, but it hints at a complex biological overlap. III. The Psychiatrist How does one make a psychiatric diagnosis from the grave? It is an impossible task, and an imprecise science, but we can draw inferences from historical accounts of a person’s behaviour. Beethoven seemed to exhibit behaviours consistent with bipolar disorder, a mental health condition characterised by extreme mood swings that include emotional highs (mania or hypomania) and lows (depression). Letters written by Beethoven himself, along with observations from friends, may provide some insight. He was notably “prone to outbursts of anger, baseless suspicions, quarrels and reconciliations, fruitless infatuations, physical ills, changes of residences…and the hiring and firing of servants" (1). One friend remarked that ‘he composes, or was unable to compose, according to the moods of happiness, vexation or sorrow’, suggesting that his creative output fluctuated with his shifting emotional state (1). Individuals with bipolar disorder experience manic or hypomanic episodes marked by elevated mood, increased energy, rapid thought processes, reduced inhibition, and heightened confidence (8). These episodes may enhance creative thinking by promoting divergent thinking – the ability to generate novel ideas or unusual associations (9). Research shows that the medial prefrontal cortex, a brain region active during divergent thinking, is typically engaged during manic states (10). While it would be inappropriate to assign a clinical diagnosis based solely on anecdotal evidence, it is possible to speculate that Beethoven’s prolific composing periods might have corresponded to manic or hypomanic episodes. But how can we distinguish a clinical mood disorder from mere bursts of creative inspiration or genius? The U-shaped curve hypothesis offers one explanation, proposing that the relationship between ‘madness’ and genius is not linear (11). Mild to moderate expressions of bipolar disorder may actually enhance creativity by promoting divergent thinking, whereas severe illness can be debilitating and reduce creative output. This raises the possibility that Beethoven experienced a less severe form of bipolar disorder – one that fueled rather than hindered his musical brilliance. Building on this, psychological research also suggests that people in creative occupations tend to score higher on measures of ‘openness to experience’ (12). This personality trait describes the extent to which a person is curious, imaginative, and receptive to new ideas or unconventional beliefs. Studies have suggested that openness to experience is elevated among individuals with bipolar disorder compared to controls with no mood disorder (13,14). It is possible that Beethoven’s creative genius was influenced, at least in part, by the interplay between his personality and traits associated with bipolar. However, it is important to acknowledge the very real challenges of living with mental illness and to avoid romanticising the condition as a source of artistic inspiration. IV. The Anthropologist Cultural narratives - like the ‘mad genius’ and ‘tortured artist’ tropes - have long romanticised and distorted the relationship between mental illness and creative brilliance. However, contemporary understandings of mental health increasingly challenge the idea that extraordinary creativity requires psychological suffering. Beethoven’s life was marked by adversity. His father, believed by some to be abusive, enforced a strict practice regime for his music lessons and struggled with alcoholism – an affliction that would later cast a shadow over Beethoven’s own life. During Beethoven’s mid-twenties, he began to lose his hearing, becoming completely deaf by around 44. Yet, he continued to compose innovative symphonies, relying only on the music in his mind. Did Beethoven’s suffering fuel his brilliance? While some studies suggest a link between bipolar disorder and heightened creativity, it would be a mistake to suggest that mental illness is a prerequisite for genius. Many highly creative individuals have no history of mental illness at all. So why, then, does the ‘mad genius’ stereotype continue to endure? During Beethoven’s era – the Romantic period – suffering was often glorified as a source of artistic inspiration. Mental illness was poorly understood, and the emotional extremes exhibited by artists with mood disorders were frequently mistaken for signs of genius. Emotional intensity and instability were often seen as sources of inspiration for genius works of art. It wasn’t until the 20th century that bipolar was formally recognised as a mental illness. It is hard to say, based solely only on historical records, whether Beethoven experienced a mental health condition, or was simply an emotionally intense and unconventional individual. What we define as ‘normal’ or ‘abnormal’ behaviour is complex and deeply influenced by the social and cultural norms of the time. V. The Final Verdict So, what can we conclude from this evidence? Was Beethoven a genius because of his madness? Or in spite of it? Perhaps these are the wrong questions. Such binaries oversimply a reality that is far more nuanced. They invite us to reconsider our definitions of ‘normality’, ‘illness’ and ‘genius’. It is important to acknowledge the very real and devastating challenges associated with mental illness. Yet, it’s also true that some traits associated with conditions like bipolar disorder – such as divergent thinking – may intersect with creativity in complex ways. Rather than viewing these conditions purely as deficits, we might ask: could some features of mental disorder be better understood as extreme expressions of the broader, messier spectrum of human cognition and emotion? In the end, Beethoven remains an enigma – not because he was ‘mad’, but because he was unknowable and defied neat categorisation. Perhaps that is what genius truly is: not a clinical condition, or a byproduct of suffering, but a mystery that transcends explanation. References 1. Hershman DJ. Manic depression and creativity. Prometheus Books; 2010 Oct 5. 2. Bezane C. Bipolar Geniuses: Ludwig Van Beethoven [Internet]. Chicago: Conor Bezane; 2016 Mar 15. https://www.conorbezane.com/thebipolaraddict/thebipolaraddictbipolar-geniusesbeethoven/ 3. Carnegie Hall. Friends of Beethoven [Internet]. New York: Carnegie Hall; 2020 Mar 19 [cited 2025 May 31]. https://www.carnegiehall.org/Explore/Articles/2020/03/19/Friends-of-Beethoven 4. Erfurth A. Ludwig van Beethoven—a psychiatric perspective. Wiener Medizinische Wochenschrift. 2021;171(15):381-90. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10354-021-00864-4 5. Begg TJA, Schmidt A, Kocher A, Larmuseau MHD, Runfeldt G, Maier PA, et al. Genomic analyses of hair from Ludwig van Beethoven. Current Biology. 2023;33(8):1431-47.e22. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cub.2023.02.041 6. Wesseldijk LW, Henechowicz TL, Baker DJ, Bignardi G, Karlsson R, Gordon RL, et al. Notes from Beethoven’s genome. Current Biology. 2024;34(6):R233-R4. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cub.2024.01.025 7. Power RA, Steinberg S, Bjornsdottir G, Rietveld CA, Abdellaoui A, Nivard MM, et al. Polygenic risk scores for schizophrenia and bipolar disorder predict creativity. Nature Neuroscience. 2015;18(7):953-5. https://doi.org/10.1038/nn.4040 8. American Psychiatric Association. Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders: DSM-5-TR . 5th ed, text revision. Washington, DC: American Psychiatric Association; 2022. 9. Forthmann B, Kaczykowski K, Benedek M, Holling H. The Manic Idea Creator? A Review and Meta-Analysis of the Relationship between Bipolar Disorder and Creative Cognitive Potential. International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health. 2023;20(13):6264. https://www.mdpi.com/1660-4601/20/13/6264 10. Mayseless N, Eran A, Shamay-Tsoory SG. Generating original ideas: The neural underpinning of originality. NeuroImage. 2015;116:232-9. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.neuroimage.2015.05.030 11. Richards R, Kinney DK, Lunde I, Benet M, Merzel AP. Creativity in manic-depressives, cyclothymes, their normal relatives, and control subjects. Journal of abnormal psychology. 1988;97(3):281. 12.Feist GJ. A meta-analysis of personality in scientific and artistic creativity. Personality and social psychology review. 1998;2(4):290-309. 13. Matsumoto Y, Suzuki A, Shirata T, Takahashi N, Noto K, Goto K, et al. Implication of the DGKH genotype in openness to experience, a premorbid personality trait of bipolar disorder. Journal of Affective Disorders. 2018;238:539-41. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jad.2018.06.031 14. Middeldorp CM, de Moor MHM, McGrath LM, Gordon SD, Blackwood DH, Costa PT, et al. The genetic association between personality and major depression or bipolar disorder. A polygenic score analysis using genome-wide association data. Translational Psychiatry. 2011;1(10):e50-e. https://doi.org/10.1038/tp.2011.45 Previous article Next article Enigma back to