Abstract
The frontal lobes have long fascinated neuropsychologists, and many have attempted to conceptualize frontal lobe function with varying degrees of success. Elkhonon Goldberg was fortunate enough to study with a man whose contribution to our understanding of the frontal lobes (and neuropsychology in general) was monumental and paradigm shifting, Alexandr Romanovich Luria.
Chapter 2 ‘An End and a Beginning: A Dedication’ tells the story of Goldberg's separation from his great mentor, a story which unfolds against the backdrop of the repressive regime under which the two men lived, were educated, and pursued their deep interest in psychology. We know little of Luria's personal style or the way in which he related to his students. Goldberg paints a portrait of the Lurias as ‘warm and generous’, with a habit of ‘drawing their associates into their family life’, himself becoming ‘the object of their semi parental supervision’. But he also felt a ‘nagging ambivalence’ towards Alexandr Romanovich. In order to preserve his internal (intellectual) freedom, Luria had made an external compromise (he joined the Party), and he tried to persuade his protégé to do the same. Goldberg found this unpalatable, and his refusal led, in effect, to the loss of Luria's patronage (‘there is nothing more I can do for you’), and to a covert plan to leave Russia.
But there was also a surprising intellectual rift between the two neuropsychologists: when Goldberg revealed his ‘gradiential’ theory of brain organization to the master, probably with a mixture of youthful pride and trepidation, it was received with ‘benign indifference’. For those with an interest in the history of neuropsychological thought, gradiential theory is a natural extension of the Jackson–Freud–Luria tradition. Goldberg knew that, and while he brushes off Luria's lack of enthusiasm, I wonder if he does not retain a sense of perplexity.
Gradiential theory emphasizes continuity in the cortical representation of cognitive function, as opposed to the discontinuities that characterize modular or locationist views. In this book, Goldberg emphasizes the massive interconnectedness that exists between the frontal lobes and the rest of the brain, not as a static anatomical characteristic, but as continually shifting patterns of functional interconnection or ‘dynamic topology’.
The rest of the book is a tour through the frontal lobes, under the guidance of a very knowledgeable exponent. Exactly how to conduct the tour, however, was another source of ambivalence for Goldberg. The book was intended for a general audience, but in Goldberg's words it turned out to be ‘something of a hybrid, the product of a conflict between Goldberg as “professional” and Goldberg as “populariser”’. The final product is remarkably successful. Goldberg's device is social metaphor. He portrays the brain as a microcosm of society, and the frontal lobes as conductor of the orchestra, corporate executive, military leader. and like all executives, the frontal lobes are specialized to regulate internal mental life in the interests of embedding the individual in a wider social context. It preserves the individual from a slavish responsiveness to external demand or internal perturbation. When it is damaged, the effects are profoundly societal, but paradoxically continue to fall on a ‘public blindspot’ because they are difficult to conceptualize.
The executive metaphor is now commonplace in neuropsychological discussions of the frontal lobes, but its origins in the thinking of Freud and Luria are not understood, and the concept has been simplified beyond any genuine usefulness. Paradoxically, Goldberg's book intended for a general audience may help to re-introduce some depth. The Executive Brain is likely to be a fascinating read for those who are familiar with frontal lobe neuropsychology, and Goldberg's approach in particular, and an inspiring educational experience for the general reader interested in the mind– brain interface.